Keep your distance
by Mysstique
Summary: Harry wakes to find himself in a world not his own, it seems much better. His parents are alive, and he's got younger siblings. However, he discovers much more has changed, and for the worse...
1. Morning brings surprises

Chapter 1:

Morning Brings Surprises

Disclaimer: This is valid throughout the entire story—I do not own any of the characters of Harry Potter. They are property of J.K. Rowling, fantastic author that she is. Any characters you do not recognize have come somewhere out of my head.

AN: Under reconstruction. Little things will have changed, but not anything major.

* * *

Harry Potter, son of James and Lily Potter, didn't know what had happened. He'd gone to bed, furious at his sister for breaking his broom and he'd woken to find that he was in a small, poorly lit bedroom that looked big enough to hold a dog, if you would subject a dog to such poor living conditions. He was lying in a bed that he prayed just _looked_ moldy and stained, and, rubbing his eyes, he realized there were bars on the windows. He briefly entertained the idea that his parents had finally broke down and carted him off to prison in his sleep, but realized that he was still in his clothes from the night before.

He looked around, blinking at the harsh light, wondering where the hell he was when he heard thundering footsteps heading towards his room. He looked around for his wand, and he found it in his trusty holster Draco had gotten him last Christmas. It was one of two things that he always had with him. He pulled out his wand, twelve inches, dragon heartstring, and waited to see what the thundering noise was. He was irritable, had a throbbing headache, and was ready to curse anyone who posed a threat. Or even a mere annoyance.

"Boy! You better have a good excuse for why the neighbor stopped by this morning," an unfamiliar voice shouted through the door before literally breaking it off the hinges. A huge man with an extremely red face came blasting through the door, looking not unlike a rampaging hippogriff, Harry thought. He smirked inwardly. _Excellent_, he thought, _morning target practice._

"Well! Why was Mrs. Baker over here this morning?" The man, whoever he was, looked ready to explode. His face was red, and went five shades redder when Harry glared at him coldly and started talking.

"I don't care. I don't know who the hell you are and frankly, you're getting on my nerves. Why don't you go back downstairs so I can figure out where I am," he said, with the utmost disrespect. If possible, the man's face turned redder. He advanced threateningly.

"What did you say, boy?" The volume in his voice had been replaced by a soft, dangerous one. Harry was quickly reminded of Voldemort, his master. There were two things missing from it, however: the slight hissing that came with Voldemort's voice, and the power to back up the dangerous voice.

"I said you had better go back downstairs before I have to-" what ever Harry was going to say was stopped by a slap to the face. Harry glared at the man, he was obviously a muggle. All the more fun, he thought.

"Forric Retreculous," he said, pointing his wand at the stranger. The man started screaming as his face was covered in big red spots that looked like burns. Harry grinned to himself before saying to the man, "What did you want me to do?" The man looked helplessly at Harry, too much in agony to say anything.

"You're lucky I'm in good mood," Harry said coldly. He muttered the counter curse, not because he wanted to but because he had more important things to do, like figure out where the hell he was. He left the muggle in that room (if you could call it that) and went downstairs, only to find his aunt, whom he had not seen in years. She looked much different.

"Don't mind me, Aunt Petunia; I seem to have been transported here. I'll be going now." He walked out the door, leaving his aunt staring at his wordlessly. He was a bit perplexed as to how he'd arrived at his aunt's house. The best thing he could come up with was that he'd somehow accidentally apparated in his sleep.

Harry's first instinct was to go home, but right now he was too mad at his sister, Kaylee. The next place he thought of was Draco's house, but Draco would probably be asleep still, and he hated it when Harry stopped by unannounced. He sighed; this is what he hated about summers. There was nowhere to go but home, back to his god-awful family. He apparated back to Godric's Hollow, only to find the place in ruins.

* * *

"I'm sorry Harry; I swear I didn't mean to! I'm sorry!" A girl who looked about the age of ten or eleven was on the verge of tears. He didn't think the girl was familiar, he'd never seen her around the Durlsey's before. Speaking of which, why wasn't he in his room? He'd been sleeping when this girl had burst into his room (no, not _his_ room, but _someone's_ room), babbling something about she'd done.

"Er…its ok, I'm sure you didn't mean it," he said, trying to soothe the girl. Not only was she giving his headache, but he didn't like to see anyone crying, especially kids.

She stopped and stared at him after he had spoken. After a couple of seconds, she wiped her eyes, and swallowed thickly. Sniffling, she frowned a bit.

"So, you're not mad at me?" she asked, her voice small and tiny. Harry was a bit shocked at her change of moods. _At least she's not crying anymore,_ he thought.

"Why should I be mad at you?" he asked, trying to figure out why she was in this room, and exactly where this room was.

"Because I broke your broom," she said, and then started crying again. "But I swear I didn't mean to, it was an accident!"

Harry looked at the distressed girl, surprised and confused. She was a witch, obviously, and she seemed to know who he was. But he had no clue who she was. She had auburn hair and blue eyes, and she wasn't very tall. Of course, Harry couldn't say much because he wasn't very tall for his age either.

"Can I ask you a question?" he said kindly, hoping she wouldn't burst into tears again. She nodded, still afraid of something; what it was, Harry wasn't sure.

"Who are you?" he asked, hoping for a coherent answer. Her face fell, and she started crying again. _Oh God,_ he thought, _not again._

"I knew it; I knew you were mad at me. Jeez, Harry I told you I was sorry!"

Harry shook his head. "I'm sorry. I really _don't _know who you are, and if you don't mind, I'd like to know where I am," he said, trying not to sound annoyed. It wasn't her fault that he'd turned up in this room, which was probably hers.

She looked at him cautiously.

"You're in your bedroom, Harry, remember?" Harry shook his head; this was extremely unfamiliar to him. At least he knew that it _was_ in fact someone's bedroom, and this someone looked exactly like him. And had his name. And apparently, knew this girl quite well. He sighed, wondering what in the hell he'd gotten into this time.

"This is not my bedroom—and I don't know who you are." A sudden thought struck him. "Do you see my wand?" He said looking around. As he wandered around, the girl started to frown. He found his wand on the table next to the bed, and when he turned around, the girl's frown had deepened.

Her eyebrows narrowed. "Very funny Harry, well I'm not going to fall for your Death Eater tricks again. The last time you claimed you lost your memory I was almost killed." Harry's eyes widened in surprise, and a bit of anger.

"I haven't lost my memory, I've never met you before in my life, and I'm most certainly not a Death Eater!" he said indignantly. She glared at him like he was being stupid.

"Don't be dumb Harry, I saw it. Everyone knows."

Harry pulled up both his sleeves, of his muggle clothing by the way, and revealed two unmarked arms. "Still think I'm a Death Eater?"

She looked at him in confusion, and then she finally seemed to realize his muggle clothing.

"Why are you wearing muggle clothing? And why are you wearing glasses?" she asked suspiciously. Harry rolled his eyes.

"I'm wearing muggle clothing because I can't wear my Hogwarts robes during the summer, my uncle would kill me. And I'm wearing glasses so I can see," he added a bit sarcastically, hoping she would drop this little argument, and would help him figure where he was.

Her eyes widened, and she looked at him differently.

"So what's your name? You certainly look like my brother," she said, pausing. "Even if you don't act like him."

"Harry Potter," he said. Her face scrunched up in confusion.

"But I thought you said you weren't my brother," she said.

"I'm not, I don't have a sister."

The girl sat down on the bed, and Harry joined her, getting a little worried. This was a little more than just weird.

"So what's your name?" She looked at him.

"Kaylee Marie Potter." Harry glanced at her wearily. He didn't know who she thought she was, but somehow, she did look familiar. If he had had a sister, he suspected she might be it. She had his mothers red hair, and now that he thought about it, his father's eyes had been the same color blue.

Harry could not even imagine what had happened. One minute he was sleeping in his bed, vaguely waking to the thundering of his uncle up the stairs, and the next minute he was sitting in this bedroom, with his supposed sister. He didn't even know if she was really who she said she was. She could be a Death Eater in disguise or something. She brought him out of his musings by suddenly standing up.

"Come on, we can ask mum and dad what to do," she said, heading towards the door, obviously ready to head downstairs and find "mum" and "dad". Harry panicked, and stopped her. Mum and dad? As in Lily and James Potter?

"No, we can't. There is absolutely no way any sane person will believe me. I don't even know if I believe me. I could be delusional, or something like that. If we try to tell them I'm their son, but not really their son, they'll think I'm crazy, and you too," he said. He'd almost convinced himself that he was imagining things. He couldn't bear the thought of his parents, even imaginary ones, thinking he was crazy.

Kaylee frowned. "But they have to believe us, what, with your Dark mark being gone and all. They _saw_ it Harry," she said, trying to convince him. "They'll believe us—we can tell them—but", she said, seeing his panicked face, "we can wait until later, when we have an idea of what's going on."

She continued on.

"Well, we still need to eat, and mum will be done with breakfast anytime now. She'll know something is wrong if I don't show up for breakfast. Favorite meal of the day. Just try to act normal," she said, walking out the door. Harry wondered what was 'normal', and prepared himself to see his parents.

They went down two sets of stairs before they reached a homely looking kitchen. A woman with auburn hair was cooking breakfast and a man with black messy hair was sitting down, reading a newspaper, The Daily Profit, Harry guessed.

"Morning mum, dad," Kaylee said. She shook her head when Harry started to say something as well. He closed his mouth and sat down at the table. _It's probably good that she stopped me_, he thought, _who knows what babble would have come out of my mouth._

"Morning sweetie. Breakfast is almost done. I made your favorite, creamed beef and biscuits," the woman said. Harry assumed she was his mother, and he tried to look at her without her noticing. She looked older than she had in all the pictures, but two kids and fifteen years will do that to you, Harry mused. Her auburn hair had yet to gray, and her eyes were bright as ever. His eyes were getting suspiciously misty as he soaked in the first sight of his mother he could remember, and he dropped his head, wondering how on earth he was going to get through this meal.

"Harry, I thought you were going out today," Lily said, somewhat coldly. Harry kept his face passive, but inside he cringed. His mother had sounded somewhat like...Aunt Petunia. It was a scary thought. The cold voice sounded wrong on her, especially directed towards him.

"I, er, changed my plans," he said, not knowing where or what his plans were.

"Well, you might want to let Draco know, I don't want him apparating in our house looking for you," the man said. It was really weird to look at him, because it was like looking at an older version of yourself. The only things that were different were Harry's eyes and his scar.

Harry just nodded, not sure why he would want Draco to come over anyways.

His father just sat at the table, reading his paper, and so Harry was able to surreptitiously observe him. _No wonder people say I look like him,_ he thought. His father looked like an older version of Harry. Harry frowned as his father pretty much ignored everything and finished breakfast, excusing himself with a quiet 'thanks' to his wife. From the stories Harry had heard, he was expecting a more...exuberant person.

After eating a quick and awkward breakfast, which consisted of toast and jam, Harry excused himself and went back upstairs to 'his' room, and Kaylee was sure to follow.

When she got in the room, she closed the door.

"So I think you're my brother—some kind of weird alternate form of him," she said, without preamble. He nodded kind of agreeing with her. He couldn't think of something else that made more sense.

"So tell me about—er—myself," he said awkwardly. "I don't want people to get alarmed because I act different that what you're used to."

"Can you cast a silencing charm? I don't want Tom to hear," she said. Harry frowned.

"But I can't do magic over the summer- and who is Tom?"

Her eyes widened. "Oh yeah, I forgot I didn't tell you we have a brother. He's going to be in forth year this year." She told him some basic things, such as Tom didn't really like Harry because he was a Death Eater (which Harry pointed out that _he_was not). Tom played Quidditch, chaser, just like their dad, and from what Harry could gather he was pretty good. He made the team last year, and they had won the Quidditch cup.

This brought up another question. "What house is he in? Wait- what house am I in?" he asked. Kaylee's smile faded when she heard the question.

"Well," she began, "Tom is in Gryffindor. Mum and Dad were so proud of him for making it into their old house. I'm in Gryffindor too, I'll be in my second year," she said. "And you..." she trailed off, "you are in Slytherin."

Harry groaned but then a part of his brain said, 'that was the hat's first choice, you know'. Harry ignored that little voice and listened as his sister quickly changed the subject.

"Well, it's not that bad, you are respected throughout all of Slytherin," she began. "Draco Malfoy is your best friend. And you're currently dating Pansy," she said. Harry made a face, and Kaylee laughed.

"Pansy? Am I crazy?" Harry asked. Honestly—Pansy? He couldn't be _that_ different, could he?

Kaylee shook her head. "I think you were using her to see if her parents were loyal Death Eaters or not."

"Great," Harry mumbled. "Anything else horrifying I should know?" She considered his question seriously, which kind of scared Harry.

"Well, not really. I'm pretty sure you were a Death Eater though," she said quietly. Harry couldn't even fathom what would ever make him serve Voldemort.

"Do you know why?" he asked. She shook her head.

"I have no idea. You're incredibly smart, almost too smart for your own good. You're always coming up with some new spell or potion for Voldemort," she said. "I wish you would just fight against Voldemort instead of with him. Don't tell mum I said this, but I think you would turn the war." Harry just sat on his bed, perplexed. It didn't really sound like him at all. He quickly changed the subject.

"So, do I play Quidditch?" Harry asked.

"Nope, you said there wasn't enough time to study with Quidditch practice," she said. "It's probably a good thing you don't play, Tom would probably try to kill you," she said. Harry sighed. Flying was one of his only escapes, a way to clear his head. It had bothered him not to be able to play last year. But not flying at all? What did this alternate person do for fun? _Ah—probably kill babies or something like that_, he thought sarcastically.

"Did you used to play?" she asked, curious. Harry nodded his head yes.

"Yep, I've been Gryffindor seeker for the past five years. Er—minus extenuating circumstances of course," he said, thinking of Umbridge and the Triwizard Tournament. Kaylee's eyes widened.

"You were in Gryffindor? No wonder you are so shocked about everything. I would be too, finding out I was in Slytherin. So," she said, suddenly much more interested, "who did you hang out with?"

Harry thought back to his friends, who probably had no idea he was here in this strange world.

"Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger are my best friends. The dream team, as Snape calls us. Then there's Fred and George Weasley. They are starting up a joke shop. Complete geniuses," he said, remembering all the things they had invented. He spent the next half hour telling his sister about his friends and the adventures they'd all had--watered down versions, of course. He didn't want her to know of his connection to Voldemort yet. He'd let slip that Voldemort had died,and she was fascinated.

"You mean he actually died? Disappeared? How? Did Dumbledore finally kill him?" she asked, awestruck. Harry squirmed a bit.

"Er, it actually happened when I was a baby, so I don't remember most of it," he said. She didn't seem satisfied with that answer, but he knew that telling her could result in disaster. She might get it into her head that he could defeat Voldemort again here, or that he was some all-powerful wizard like Dumbledore. He didn't want to get her hopes up.

"Oh, well do you know who destroyed him?"

Harry shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "I think he actually killed himself. His own killing curse rebounded on him and it stripped him of a body, leaving him powerless," he said, telling the truth, just not the whole truth.

The rest of the day was spent with the two of them talking. Harry was finding out more about this world he was in, and Kaylee wanted to know more about his life. By the end of the day, Harry was extremely mad at his counterpart. He had the perfect life here, and he wasted it. Instead of appreciating his parents and siblings, he'd started to turn away after his first year at school. He'd become very cold towards his family. He was a Death Eater, a Slytherin, he was incredibly smart (from the looks of it he could beat Hermione), his best friend was Malfoy, his family hated him (Harry was used to that with the Dursleys, but somehow it hurt more when it was his real family), he didn't play Quidditch, and he was one of Snape's favorite students.

"There is one thing we like about Harry though," she said. "He can play any musical instrument, wizard or muggle, that he picks up. He's got a natural gift for it, and he seems human when he does play. I think I like the piano best. The muggle kind, not the wizard kind," she added.

Harry added another thing to the list of differences. He'd never touched an instrument in his life. He couldn't even read music. Aunt Petunia had once volunteered to be in the church choir, and had bought a tiny electric keyboard to play along with when she practiced singing. Uncle Vernon had tolerated three days before chucking the thing in the garbage, claiming that "his wife was too good to be singing in some _volunteer_ choir" and "stop so the stray cats go away, dear". That was pretty much the extent of Harry's musical experience.

"I don't think I've ever seen a piano up close before," Harry mused out loud. Kaylee's eyes widened.

"Come on, I'll show you yours! It's downstairs, you'll love it." She grabbed his hand, and he allowed himself to be led down the stairs to a huge room. The room almost looked like a ballroom, but Harry could swear that the house wasn't that big. Seeing the surprised look on his face, Kaylee smiled as she explained.

"It's enchanted. Mum and Dad used to throw parties in here before..." she trailed off. Harry decided he probably didn't want to know what she was going to say. He spotted the piano across the hall. She was right. Even though he didn't know a thing about pianos, he knew this one was probably the best there was.

"Mum and Dad got it for you for your seventh birthday. Isn't it just gorgeous?" Harry nodded and sat down on the bench. He ran his fingers over the ivory keys, triggering a memory he would swear he'd never had before.

* * *

_He was sitting in the corner at some kind of a party. It looked like a birthday party from what he could tell, because there was a huge, three tower cake sitting on the table, half eaten. Streamers littered the ceiling and floor—they must have been wizard streamers, since some were on fire, and others were shooting out multicolored sparks. All over there were little kids, probably seven or eight years old, and he saw his sister thrown in the mix, running around with a tiara on her head. She was laughing, chasing after a larger boy, who looked remarkably like their father. He assumed it was Tom, this younger brother he'd heard of, and his assumptions were proved correct when someone yelled, "Kaylee, stop chasing your brother and come over here!"_

_Harry was looking out of his counterpart's eyes. He could see his mother and father over by the table with the cake, laughing at something one of the other adults had said. He was in the corner of the room, and Harry knew that people were basically ignoring him. His mother would look over at him, time to time, with a worried look, but everyone else was content on focusing their attention else where. _

_Someone started to sing happy birthday, and the whole room followed, in a very off-key, loud chorus. It appeared to be Kaylee's birthday, and she was blushing with excitement from all the attention. A small boy called for "Presents!", and all the children squealed. Harry winced, and he felt an emotion flutter over his consciousness. He recognized it vaguely as shame. But shame from what? _

_Kaylee looked around excitedly. "What's first?" she asked, and Lily Potter smiled indulgently at her youngest child._

"_Whatever you want first, honey," she said._

_Kaylee grinned, looked around, and found Harry sulking in the corner._

"_Harry! What did you get me Harry?"_

_Harry felt a mask fall over his face, and he said, his face emotionless, "I didn't have enough time to get you anything, Kaylee." He told himself that this was for the best, that he had to distance himself from his family, but at the heartbroken look on her face he softened a bit. She looked about ready to cry, and her head hung as she turned to look towards her mother, no longer as interested in presents as she had been before. He sighed inwardly, hating himself for being so weak._

"_However," he continued, and she looked up with a hopeful expression, "I will play you any song of your choice. You can pick anything."_

_Harry knew that his sister, and the rest of his family, loved to hear him play the piano. They believed that if he was human enough to enjoy something simple like music, then he couldn't possibly be turning dark. And, of course, he was quite good._

_The happy look that came over his sister's face softened his loss of resolve, and she practically dragged him to the piano, chattering about something. As he sat down, people were still talking, but as he started to play, a silence grew over the room. The piece he was playing seemed to be one of Kaylee's favorites, since she was humming it along with the piano. His mother's eyes softened and his father gave him a rare smile. His heart broke in that moment and he knew without a doubt that he had to follow through with his plan. He would not allow anyone to hurt his family.

* * *

_

Harry shook his head to clear it. He had no idea where that memory came from, but it scared him a bit. The only visions he was used to getting were from Voldemort, and he had no desire to get them any time soon. From what Kaylee had told him, he had to be about twelve in this memory, or vision, or what ever it was, home for Easter during his second year at school. Something was nagging him about the way the other Harry was thinking.

Kaylee started humming a song, oblivious to Harry's internal confusion. He immediately recognized the song. It was the song he'd just played at the party in the memory.

To his greatest surprised, when he went to try out the keys he felt like he was on autopilot. His hands knew automatically what to do, as if he'd been doing it all his life. They started to play the intro to Kaylee's song, and she recognized it and immediately gasped. He stopped immediately, looking at the piano with a strange look on his face. _What the hell?_

"That's the song! How did you know…" she asked, trailing off.

"I just had a memory. It was of your birthday party, maybe your eighth or ninth. Kaylee, it's not my memory, but yet it is." Harry was becoming confused as he tried to explain things. Fortunately for him Kaylee seemed to take it without question.

"Do you think you could play it? It's been years since I've heard that song," she said softly. He turned back to the piano, and started to play again. The autopilot kicked in again, and he found himself playing that song. If he concentrated too hard, a wrong note came out and so he just stopped thinking about it. There had to be something magical about it, because he wasn't exactly the most musically inclined person.

Kaylee's face broke out into a grin, and she sat next to him and just watched him play. When he was done, she sighed. He felt happy for some reason, giving such happiness to this girl he'd just met, his little _sister_.

"I love that song," she said. "Do you think you could play something else?" Harry shrugged, not really comprehending her words. He was too blown away at the fact he'd just played an incredibly hard song on an instrument he'd never touched before. This was beyond weird, and he didn't know how it was physically possible. Although—he was in someone else's body. _What's weird_, he thought, _is the fact that I can play the piano like Harry, but I don't have the Dark Mark. Odd._

"I don't know," he finally answered. She started humming another tune, but this one was more upbeat. He didn't recognize the tune, but apparently his hands did. They started right out into the introduction of the piece. He was so surprised that he kept going, closing his eyes as if afraid to mess it up.

What the Harry and Kaylee didn't realize was that Lily, James, and Tom were standing on the other side of the room, surprised to say the least. Harry hadn't played the piano in years, and he certainly hadn't agreed to play for Kaylee in a long time. They were amazed, and when he was done Lily came over to the piano, followed by James and Tom.

"That was marvelous Harry, I didn't know you were still playing," she said, her voice loosing the cool touch it had had at breakfast.

Harry was surprised by the sudden audience, and he flushed a little.

"Er, thanks. I hadn't really played that in a long time," he said. _Or ever_, he added in his head. It was weird to watch himself play the piano. It just seemed to come natural to his hands, and his brain seemed to know every chord, even without the music. It was bizarre.

"Do you think you could play one more for us?" Lily asked, her face soft. Harry nodded. He wondered what he should play when another memory popped into his head, this one much shorter but no less powerful.

* * *

_It was one of the first songs he'd learned. He'd found out what their wedding song was from Remus, and he was intending to play it for Lily's birthday, which was four days away from their anniversary. He couldn't have been more than eight or nine as he led his bemused parents into the ballroom, where his new piano sat. He started playing, totally focusing on playing and therefore missing the surprised looks on his parents' faces. When he was done, his mother had tears in her eyes, and she sat down next to him to give him a hug. Her hugs grew less frequent over the years, but that one memory stayed with him.

* * *

_

His parents' favorite song was their wedding song, one he'd never heard before. Starting the slow ballad, Lily recognized the song and looked like she wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. James glanced at his son warily. Harry looked back at the piano, afraid to see disappointed faces on his parents. He finished the song, and his parents seemed to come out of a trance. They looked over at him wearily.

"Harry, why'd you suddenly start playing again?" Harry shrugged.

"Just bored today, I guess," he said, shrugging. His mum looked at him strangely.

"Don't have any studying to do?" she asked. Harry shook his head, indicating he didn't have any homework, much less the desire to do any. _Probably not the smartest move,_ he thought, as she suddenly stared at him with caution. _Oh yeah, Harry actually **likes** doing homework._

"Are you feeling all right, Harry?" she asked. Her eyes were furrowed in confusion.

"Um, yeah, I'm fine," he said. Kaylee winced as he answered. Apparently this was the wrong answer, for his mum's eyes narrowed. He didn't know what was wrong with that answer—maybe he was supposed to be ruder?

"All right, whatever you want you won't get it. Not after that 'potions' incident," she said, her voice becoming cold again. Harry tried not to look lost. He had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

"Er, I don't want anything from you," he said, trying to make the situation better by being rude. From the look on his mother's face, it seemed he made it worse. She started muttering different spells, pointing her wand at him. She finally said one he recognized.

"Finite Incantatem." She looked up, hoping to get a reaction, but all she got was a blank stare. Harry assumed she thought he was under some sort of spell or enchantment. He had to fix this—but it was so hard to be rude and cold to his parents, especially since he wanted nothing more than to talk to them, and get to know them.

"I'm not under any spell, not that I know of anyways. Leave off." he said, trying again, but his mother would hear nothing of it. When she couldn't find a spell that worked she began to worry.

"Harry, why don't you come with me to Hogwarts. I need to see Professor Dumbledore about something," she said, staring at him, watching for a reaction. Harry's eyes lit up. Dumbledore could send him home! His reaction seemed to worry Lily further, and he scolded himself. _Of course, Harry would probably cringe at the thought of seeing Dumbledore, _he thought.

"Come on, let's go by Floo Powder," she said, leading him to another room, one that had a fireplace in it. Harry held back a groan. He didn't really like traveling by Floo powder.

She threw a pinch of powder into the fire, and shouted 'Hogwarts' before stepping into the flames. Harry glanced at Kaylee, who had followed them. Behind her stood his father and Tom, his brother, both watching wearily.

"Er, Kaylee, why don't you come too," he said, wanting someone there who knew the situation he was in. Before James or Tom could object, Kaylee practically leaped into the fire. Harry followed, unsure of what he'd gotten himself into.


	2. Trust issues

Chapter 2: Trust Issues

AN: I have edited this chapter.

WhenHarry stepped out of the fireplace, he seemed to be in the Great Hall.

The teachers were eating dinner, and they had stopped and started talking to Lily. Lily had gone straight to Dumbledore, telling him she needed to talk to him immediately. There was a man who looked very familiar to Harry sitting at the lunch table. It was his godfather. Harry couldn't believe that Sirius would ever become a professor, even in a world so incredibly screwed up as this one. Most of the professors were glaring at Harry so intensely that he almost shrunk back before he realized that there was nowhere to go. Snape was actually looking at him with something akin to confusion (not hatred), which confused him even more. He tried to think of something to hide his discomfort. The constant stares were disconcerting.

Kaylee was standing next to him, and he whispered, "Sirius is a professor? Did Dumbledore finally go mad?" Kaylee giggled, despite the circumstances.

"Nope, Sirius is our Defense against the Dark Art's professor. You two don't really get along," she said. "That's the only class you're failing, because you don't participate." Harry shook his head at the absurdity of it all. DADA was his best class, and Sirius was one of his favorite people. _Well, he used to be,_ Harry thought painfully. _Not now, Harry_, he told himself sternly. _Not now._

In the meantime Dumbledore had excused himself and led them up to his office. Harry was relieved to find that it was the same as always. Fawkes was sitting on his perch, looking quite pleased about something. He immediately flew over to Dumbledore, and rested on his shoulder. Kaylee was standing next to their mother, and she looked ready to burst. Harry gave her a look, one that said _let me handle this_. He didn't want them thinking he'd bewitched Kaylee as well. She was the only who he could talk with right now.

"Please, have a seat. Now, Lily, what is this you're going on about?" Dumbledore said, glancing at Harry with an unreadable expression on his face.

"He's under some kind of spell- I couldn't find one but I thought maybe you'd be able to," she said, nervously tapping her foot. She seemed nervous, and the same time, tired. Maybe this was a regular occurrence?

Harry frowned. "I am not under any kind of spell, I already told you that," he said, annoyed.

Dumbledore sent a calculating look towards Harry, one that Harry didn't ever want to see again. That was the type of look reserved for Draco Malfoy. _He's not going to believe me if I tell him_, Harry thought desperately.

"I hope you will understand, Harry, that your judgment could be impaired by a spell," he said. "However I do not want to find that you are joking with your mother. This is your last warning. Remember what happened last time," he said gravely. If Harry didn't know any better, he'd say Dumbledore was threatening him. His eyes narrowed.

"Fine! Do whatever you have to do to undo the supposed spell I'm under," he said, with a touch of anger.

Dumbledore's eyes hardened and Harry gulped, but refused to show his fear. An angry Dumbledore was not a good Dumbledore, as he'd seen before, but having that stare on you was _very _unnerving.

"I'm serious, Harry, you better not be fooling your mother," he said. This time Harry was sure it was a threat. Harry just stared back at the Headmaster, unwilling to give into the old man. _Well, since he already sees me as a snotty Death Eater, I'm sure he can handle a bit of stubbornness._

Dumbledore waved his wand and began muttering all different types of things, similar to what his mum had done earlier. Before he was done, however, someone very familiar burst through Dumbledore's door.

"What have those Death Eaters done to my son, Dumbledore?" Arthur Weasley stepped through the door, oblivious to the fact that the headmaster was busy. His face was red and splotchy. Harry stared in amazement—he'd never seen Mr. Weasley this angry, not even that time in the book store with Lucius Malfoy.

"What do you mean Arthur?" Dumbledore asked patiently.

"Ron woke up this morning and was acting strange. He actually told us that Harry Potter was his best friend, and when we laughed at him he became mad at us and eventually started hexing us! Molly practically forced me over here." Ron stood behind his father, angry until he stepped all the way in and saw the office. He stared in awe, and lost a touch of his anger. Harry guessed it was the first time he'd ever been in Dumbledore's office before. When he spotted Harry, he grinned. Harry groaned inwardly. _This is **not** going to make things easier,_ he thought.

"Harry, its bloody good to see you, mate! Can you believe this? My whole family's gone insane!" Harry smiled faintly; this was the Ron he knew, at least. He wondered if the same thing had happened to Ron. Harry would have laughed had the situation not been so serious. Dumbledore was now looking at Ron with concern.

"Arthur, we already checked him over for curses, but we can check again, if you want," he said kindly, much kinder than he had spoken with Harry. He pulled out his wand, and looked over at Harry with a speculative glance. Harry had to talk to Ron, without all of these people around. He realized that his next move was going to be a very stupid one, but he had to find out if this Ron was _his_ Ron.

"Would you please? I'm going to hurt those Death Eaters who kidnapped him," Mr. Weasley said, looking right at Harry. Harry gulped, for the third time today, not used to the murderous glare coming from Mr. Weasley. Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Harry stood quickly to stop him.

"I don't think this matter needs to be solved right now, do you? Why don't we have some dinner?" Harry said quickly. Before Dumbledore and the others could say anything, Harry practically dragged Ron out the door.

"Ron, I don't know what happened! One minute I'm in bed, the next I'm in a new bedroom standing next to a girl who claims to be my sister! My mother and father are still alive, and I have a brother who looks like me!" Harry said, all very quickly. He was extremely confused. He turned down a corridor, and started walking quickly. He needed to explain things to Ron.

Ron stared at Harry. "You mean, that's who those two were in there? Your mother and sister?" he asked. Harry nodded, glad he didn't have to explain again. His stunt had only bought them a couple of minutes, as Dumbledore was probably right one their heels.

"Yeah, and apparently I'm some sort of Death Eater, I can play the piano, I'm in Slytherin, and I don't play Quidditch," he said. Ron looked disturbed at the Death Eater part, and the Slytherin part, but he was truly shocked by the time Harry got to Quidditch. _Trust_ _Ron to look most scandalized about the Quidditch_, Harry thought.

"What do you mean, you don't play Quidditch? And you're not a Death Eater!" Ron said, as if trying to argue that to Harry. Harry almost rolled his eyes.

"I know, I think we might be in some sort of alternate plane," he said, trying to find a solution, "but I have no idea how or why." He didn't know what he wanted Ron to say—something, anything, that would make him feel better about their situation.

Ron's face had mixed feelings flittering around on it. He finally settled on confusion. Harry didn't blame him—at least he'd had pretty much a whole day to process this situation.

"So, if we're here, where did the other Harry and Ron go? Back to our world?"

Harry could only shrug. He had no idea—and that was a truly disturbing thought. Harry, the Boy-Who-Lived with the Dark Mark? Rita Skeeter would have a field day with that one. He heard voices shouting throughout Hogwarts, and he frantically got his mind back on track.

"Potter! If you harm a hair on his head-"

"Harry, get back here!"

"Mister Potter!"

Harry groaned. He stopped walking, and grabbed Ron's arm. Ron looked back at him, confused.

"See what I told you? They think I'm a Death Eater who's bent on destroying Hogwarts," he said. Ron looked furious.

"Why don't you just tell them the truth Harry? I can't believe they think you're a Death Eater!"

Harry could hear the voices getting louder.

"Listen, Ron, whenthey get over hereyou have to pretend to hate me," he said. When Ron started to argue, he stopped him. "No, listen. If they think that we're friends they'll assume that I put some kind of curse on you or something, and they'll probably send me away to Azkaban or God knows where. You have to pretend, Ron, or I'm toast." Ron nodded slowly as the voices got louder. Harry knew he didn't want to, but he couldn't think of any other solution on such short notice.

"Harry, how are we going to get back?" Ron asked, a bit of worry in his voice. "Why are we here?"

Harry just shook his head in desperation. "I don't know Ron, I just don't know." He stopped talking, listening for a moment. He could hear the footsteps getting louder. "Here they come," he whispered. "Just pretend I'm Malfoy or something." Ron looked helplessly at Harry before his father came down the corridor they had stopped in. Harry immediately started yelling at Ron.

"Oh yeah? Something tells me I could beat you in the first minute of a duel!" he said. Ron's eyes widened, but they he caught on.

"In your dreams, Potter. Why don't you go back to your Death Eater buddies and kill off a couple of them for us, huh?" Ron's face was one of malice, but his eyes told Harry otherwise.

"Are you implying something, Weasel?" Harry said. Ron was stopped from saying anything else when his father put a hand on his shoulder.

"Let's go Ron, I want to get you checked for spells and out of here as soon as possible," he said, glaring at Harry. Harry gulped. He hated to see Mr. Weasley so mad at him—but it was nothing compared to the horrible look on his mother's face.

"Mr. Potter, I believe you should go back to your house now," Dumbledore said. "I have already sent your family back. One wrong move, Mr. Potter." he said, turning back to his office. Harry shuddered. No wonder Dumbledore was the only wizard that Voldemort was ever afraid of. That look made him want to melt into the floor, and never come out.

* * *

Harry flooed back to his house, stumbling out, only to find his whole family sitting in the living room. His mother was close to tears, and his father looked murderous. Kaylee shot Harry a sympathetic look, one that he ignored in favor of staring at his parents.

"Harold James Potter," his father said softly. "I will not have you in my house if you continue your dark activities. Be you my son or not, if you continue to associate with those...people...then you will no longer exist as part of this family." James was looking very murderous. Harry felt like flinching; he _hated_ seeing that amount of distrust on his father's face.

"Look, I didn't do anything, I swear! I don't know what happened to Ro- er- Weasley but I didn't do anything!" he said, forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be cold. Merlin, _anything_ to get rid of that look on his father's face.

Lily just cried harder and James' face turned colder.

"Why don't you go," he said, but it wasn't a request. It was an order. Harry winced at the tone but walked out of the living room. He found himself wandering around, not noticing his magic was responding to his emotions. As he passed things, they turned lost any light they held, and the hallway looked very dull and grey.

How on earth was he going to get back to his world if no one believed him but Ron and Kaylee? He'd finally gotten his parents back, something he'd wished for his entire life, and they hated him for something that he hadn't done—that other prat had done it. He found himself suddenly furious at the other Harry. What the hell was that prat thinking? He had his mother and father, and two siblings who obviously cared very much for him, and he was running off to be a Death Eater! Why would he _want_ to see that horrible disappointed look on their father's face, or the heartbroken on their mother's face? What could possibly be worth _that_?

He wandered for ten minutes before his feet led him to the huge room with the piano in it. He crossed the room and sat on the bench, staring at the piano angrily, as if it was the piano's fault his parents hated him. A snippet of a memory suddenly came to him.

"_I now accept you, Harry James Potter, as one of my loyal Death Eaters. You will serve me to the death. Rise, and greet your fellow Death Eaters."_

Harry was suddenly cut out of the memory by someone tapping him on the shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I'm sorry they won't believe you. It must be hard to come here and have your parents hate you. I'm sure they aren't like this where you live," she said, almost as if she were ashamed of her parents. Harry laughed bitterly.

"I don't know my parents, Kaylee. I never did," he said almost harshly, and she didn't push it.

* * *

Kaylee just looked at her brother. He sat there helplessly, and she had no idea how she could help him. She felt compelled to protect him somehow, and she had no idea why. She knew he wasn't her _real_ brother, but still...

She wondered what he had meant when he said he had never known his parents. Did they hate him or ignore him where he lived? What happened? This Harry seemed perfect, compared to her Harry. How could their parents not love him? He reminded her of her Harry, the boy he'd been before he'd become a death eater. He was fiercely protective of her and Tom, even though he'd still been quite young himself.

Kaylee was pretty sure that Harry had become a Death Eater in training his first year of school. Something had happened, and he came home different. She never knew why Harry was sorted into Slytherin. It had shocked their parents, as well as Tom. Tom had felt betrayed. Before that, he had idolized his older brother. She had as well--he'd been the best older brother. Protective of them, cool enough to teach them magic he knew (Harry knew lots before going off to Hogwarts), taking the blame for the little things that she and Tom had done wrong so they wouldn't get in trouble. Her eyes watered up as she thought of her oldest brother--she was worried for him. What had pushed him over the edge? Why had this new Harry turned out so much better than her real brother?

Overwhelmed by emotions, she got up and left, wanting to get away. She headed towards the broom shed out back. Flying always helped her relax.

* * *

Harry sat there by the piano long after Kaylee left. It really helped that she believed him, but it killed him that this might be the only chance he would get to know his parents, and they absolutely hated him. He had a family, and he might never get a chance to know them. He looked down at his arm, free from the black mark. It was probably the easiest decision he'd ever made. Of course he wasn't going to be a death eater.

Harry put his head down on the piano to rest his eyes, but he immediately got another memory.

"_Come on, Harry, just do it. It's just a mudblood!" Draco said impatiently, his eyes darting around. Harry would have thought he sounded nervous except for the fact that Draco was never nervous. It was a new expression on his face, and Harry was intrigued. Draco looked almost human—**and since when was he Draco and not Malfoy**—and something struck a chord with Harry._

"_Draco, I can't! He'll never know, we'll just cover our trail. We can transfigure something into the dead body..." Harry said desperately, trailing off, as if he lost steam. He looked like he was a second or third year student. In front of them was a stupefied man, who looked about twenty or so. Harry looked at his best friend, and knew that Draco knew exactly what he was feeling._

"_Harry, just kill him and be done with it! We have to go!" Draco said, this time with a definite edge to his voice. He looked at Harry with concern, and stopped himself from saying something else. He composed himself, and said, "Think of your family!"_

_Harry frowned as he thought frantically about his family, and it seemed to help him make up his mind. He hardened his face, but not before a single tear made its way down his face. What if this man had a family, depending on him? Kids? A wife? No—he couldn't look at this man as anything but a body. No name, no face, no life. He'd go insane otherwise. He gulped, closed his eyes, and pulled out his wand._

Harry immediately stood up, frightened and at the same time, intrigued. This memory seemed to imply that Harry _didn't_ want to kill this man, _although,_ Harry gulped, _it looks like he did the job anyways._ It was obvious this was some kind of Death Eater mission, maybe a test to prove himself to Voldemort? There were two things bothering him about this memory: the killing, of course, was one of them, but the other was the odd behavior of Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy was supposed to be his best friend here. He'd heard that much from Kaylee. He just hadn't comprehended exactly what that had meant until just then. Malfoy looked like he actually cared about Harry, and even more, he looked just as afraid to kill the man as Harry had. Granted, they were both thirteen years old or so, but Harry had always assumed Malfoy was a mini-Death Eater from the moment he'd learned what Death Eaters were. Here, Malfoy had looked hesitant and afraid, just like any other teenage boy would have been. It showed that he wasn't the total bastard Harry had come to know.

And somehow in his mind, with that one memory, 'Malfoy' had been replaced with 'Draco'.

He glanced at the piano, wondering why he kept getting these memories when he touched it. He put his hand on top of it, and immediately received another memory. His anger had melted away into fear and curiosity.

"_It's alright, Harry. Don't worry about it," Draco said, trying to calm the anxious boy down. Harry was a wreck. The two forth-years sat by the lake, where no one could easily here their conversation. There were no tears in either boy's eyes, but Harry's voice was crying for him. It was desperate._

"_Draco, what don't you get? If I don't, he'll go after Tom, and Kay. If I do, Dumbledore will be after me. It's a lose-lose situation. How can you tell me not to worry about it?" he asked, scowling._

"_One would think you're going soft, Harry," Draco said, grinning a bit, trying to get his best friend to smile. "I mean, who cares what Dumbledore thinks? Just because you practice dark magic does not make you evil."_

Harry had to pull his hand back, it was too weird watching Draco Malfoy being nice to anyone. He wondered briefly if Draco was acting. _But_, Harry reckoned, _if he is my best friend, he'd have to be somewhat nice, right_?

Harry had never been more confused, but it seemed that he had solved a question he'd had. Why had Harry become a death eater, and given up his family? Well, the answer was simple. He'd done it to protect his family. From what or whom exactly—well, that was another question. Voldemort? Death Eaters? Those seemed like the logical answers, but Harry had a suspicion that it wasn't the whole story.


	3. Family Time

AN: This chapter has been edited. If the next chapters don't quite add up, don't worry. I'm in the process in changing them right now, and a brand new chapter IS coming. (2/23/06)

Chapter 3: Family Time

A week later, Kaylee sat on her bed, thinking about this new Harry again. He'd never known his parents, or so he said. What happened? Did they disown him in the alternate world? _That's not a possibility_, she thought._ Ifour parents hadn't disowned Harry here, there's no way they would have done so in the other world. _This new Harry was harmless compared to her brother. He was pleasant to be around, that was for sure. From what he had told her, he didn't enjoy studying nearly as much as her brother had. And he didn't seem to exude power like her brother had the last time she had spoke to him. It was part of the reason she'd been so afraid when she'd broken his broom. Harry didn't enjoy flying, but he _hated _when people went through his stuff. She knew that he could use magic during the holidays, and she honestly didn't know whether or not Harry was above torturing his own family. He had turned cold, and seemed to despise even being around his family. _Yes,_ she thought, _this Harry is much more pleasant. He doesn't seem to be as powerful as my brother._

This thought saddened her. She knew that Harry was some kind of servant for Voldemort, and it wouldn't take a genius to figure out that this Harry was not the same person that everyone was used to. Once Voldemort found out, he was bound to do something to Harry. And while her brother might have been able to handle Voldemort, or at least survive him, this Harry just wasn't as strong. Her brother had studied Dark Magic. He was surrounded by dark wizards all school year. This new Harry was a Gryffindor. From what he'd told her of his adventures at school, she shuddered to think of this Harry having to face Voldemort.

He'd told her of his first year—there'd been something about a troll that had been accidentally knocked out, and something about Ron Weasley (his best friend in the other world) playing chess with a huge transfigured chess set, and Hermione Granger figuring out a logic puzzle. Harry hadn't been specific when he'd told her what exactly they were doing messing with something like that in the first place. But honestly—a chess set? Not exactly Voldemort quality. The second year had been quite the same. He'd told her about a ghost party, and some kind of huge snake set loose in the school. Apparently one of his friends had been hurt, and Harry had found her. Kaylee hadn't managed to discover how exactly she'd been hurt, but Harry told her that he'd had help from Ron again.

The next years were the same. Harry had adventures, yes, but they would not have prepared him to face Voldemort. She was worried for his safety. She'd come to really like this new Harry, even though she'd known him just this short time.

Again, she found herself wondering why Harry had said he'd never known his parents in his world. They wouldn't have disowned him…maybe his parents were Death Eaters and he was forced to live with Dumbledore. _Yeah, that's almost as likely as Snape being nice to Hufflepuffs,_ she thought.

Dumbledore-now there was a mystery. Usually Dumbledore was highly perceptive. He could sense when something wasn't right. Why couldn't he see that Harry wasn't the same person? He obviously wasn't the same person—even if Dumbledore didn't know Harry's personality, surely he could feel the difference in Harry's magic. It felt different—calmer somehow.

A knock on her door interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in," she said, expecting Harry. Tom walked in.

"Kay, I want to know why you're spending so much time with Harry this past week. You know what he is, and I think it's dangerous for you to be around him so much. You know that mum and dad are only letting him stay here because they can keep an eye on him, right?"

Kaylee found herself getting angry on Harry's behalf. Her face must have reflected her feelings, because Tom quickly said, "I just don't want him to hurt you Kay. I don't want to loose another sibling. I mean, you must have heard about some of what he's done. And if he wanted to do something to you, there's no way you could protect yourself. He's going into his sixth year, Kay, and you're just in second. I wouldn't want him coming after me, and I'm going into fourth!" he said, shuddering a bit. _Probably imagining what Harry would do to him,_ she thought.

_He deserves to know about Harry. He was so hurt when our brother went dark,_ she remembered. It might do Tom some good to see that their brother had turned out all right, at least in another world if not theirs. He could get to see the fun side of their brother again.

"Also," he continued, oblivious to her thoughts, "I heard parts of your conversations with him. Why did he want to know all about himself? It was like he had amnesia or something." He looked suspiciously at her. "You're not going to fall for that kind of Death Eater trick again, are you? Merlin, do you even remember what happened last time, Kay? You were almost _killed!_ If mum and dad had shown up any later, you would have been!"

Kaylee paled a bit. She'd only been ten or so when she'd been lured out of their home in Godric's Hollow by Death Eaters. A couple of Death Eaters had taken her to a meeting somewhere, and she'd seen Harry and Draco there, discussing something. Harry had paled when he'd seen her, and immediately disappeared. A few minutes later, Voldemort had shown up with Harry. Voldemort just looked at her as he announced to his followers that they now had another Potter child. He hadn't much further than that, because Dumbledore and a large amount of Aurors had apparated.

Voldemort, not wanting to deal with Dumbledore, had quickly disapparated, as his followers had. Kaylee had just looked at her brother through betrayed eyes as he disappeared. She'd been brought back to Godric's Hollow, immediately embraced by her mother and father, and shoved full of food. Harry had shown up a couple of hours later, and was immediately questioned by Dumbledore. He insisted he had nothing to do with the kidnapping, and that he was not a Death Eater. Kaylee, for some reason, stayed silent, unwilling to believe that her brother had been at the meeting. At the time, they had checked Harry's arm to find that he was not yet a full-fledged Death Eater. Unable to get any proof, Dumbledore had left Harry alone.

They had moved out of Godric's Hollow to an unplottable location. There were wards all over the place, but Harry seemed to have no trouble getting in or out of them. For this reason alone, perhaps, he'd been left alone. The wards had been set to block anyone with evil intentions.

Kaylee scowled at her brother for bringing that up, but she could see how he would be worried about her. She sighed, wondering if he would believe her if she told him the truth about the new Harry.

"Listen, Tom, you have to promise to hear me out before you do anything, ok?" she said calmly.

"Listen to what? What has he done now? What's going on?" Tom asked, getting a little frightened.

A voice behind them answered.

"You wouldn't believe us if we told you," Harry said, coming into the room. Tom turned around, frightened, but Kaylee smiled at him.

Tom's eyes went very wide in surprise before narrowing in anger.

"What have you done to her?" he asked.

"Nothing—please hear us out," Harry said calmly, and pulled out his wand to do a silencing charm. Tom looked warily at Harry's wand before grabbing Kaylee and dragging her behind him.

"Put your wand down, and maybe I'll listen to you," he said, shielding Kaylee with his body. He looked surprised as Harry actually did what he said, and Kaylee smiled. _Maybe Tom really will believe us. Harry has changed too much to be the same person._

Harry began to explain, as best he could, about what had happened the past few days. Kaylee looked at Harry—his eyes looked tired and worn. She knew he was probably having a hard time adjusting. As he continued his explanation, he lifted his sleeve to reveal an arm without the dark mark.

* * *

Tom just sat there, staring at Harry. He couldn't tell if his brother was telling the truth or not. He'd learned long ago not to trust his brother. You couldn't truly trust a Slytherin, after all. They were the kind to stab you in the back when you were looking and then lie to you about it. He looked carefully at Harry. He could tell there was something different about Harry, something more... He couldn't place it. He had agreed to hear Harry out, just because at first he was trying to find a way to get Kaylee out of there without being hurt. But now, as Harry continued his story, he stayed because he was intrigued. 

He'd been close with his brother before he'd gone off to school, and it had hurt immensely to see Harry come back with darker, haunted eyes and a cold disposition. When Tom had gone to Hogwarts a year later, he had quickly learned that his brother was someone no one messed with. Even as a third year, he'd been feared—he and Draco Malfoy. The older Slytherins were the only students that seemed to be comfortable around the two. All the younger years either revered the two, or the feared them. Tom had tried to fool himself, but seeing his brother at school had confirmed what he'd feared. His brother had changed greatly, and not for the good.

Not that he went around tormenting younger students—no, Harry and Draco preferred to study all the time or practice magic in old classrooms. When the duo _would_ get angry with someone, it would become blatantly obvious that they held real power, and they were not just some kids fooling around. As long as people left them alone, they, for the most part, left others alone. Gryffindors, of course, were not included in this.

It took Tom just a little over an hour to see that Harry was different. He was acting like pre-Hogwarts Harry. Tom was suspicious at first, and he still had some questions, but if this _was_ acting, it was a very good job. This story of alternate worlds was elaborate, and became more believable when Harry would tell them stories from his world. Whatever Harry had been credited to know, he had _not_ possessed this kind of imagination before.

The three stumbled down the stairs with Tom almost fully convinced that Harry was who he said he was. He still had some questions ('How did you get here?' and 'Why doesn't Dumbledore believe you?'), but they were questions he was willing to let slide. For now. Some small part of Tom was secretly glad he could spend some time with a Harry that didn't hate him, and he was prepared to enjoy it, however short a time it lasted.

* * *

The next week was tense. James and Lily seemed to be avoiding Harry and at the same time watching him. Harry thought they were watching him so that he couldn't go to some kind of Death Eater meeting or something like that. Tom was starting to warm up to him, due to the fact that he could tell Tom his many adventures back in his world. Tom gasped as he learned that Fred and George had the Marauder's Map. 

"Dad told me that he and Padfoot lost it in their seventh year, and I was never able to find it. Now I know why. I wonder what they did with it when they left school," he'd said, thinking. "Maybe I can owl them?"

Harry had spent most of the week inside, sitting by the piano. He was convinced that the memories the thing was showing him were actually from Harry's past. He had no idea why the stupid thing kept showing him the random memories, but this way he had access to information Kaylee couldn't give him. The more he saw, the more things started to make sense. He'd seen numerous scenes where Harry was forced to torture helpless victims. He would always try to send a simple numbing spell their way before he started, and when he had to kill them he always killed them outright. No painful deaths by blood loss or starvation. They were all quick and painless.

Not all of these memories were full memories, however. Sometimes he would just get a flash of something, and other times he would get strong emotions. As interesting as the memories were, however, he could do nothing about it at the moment. To tell the truth, Harry was sick of being indoors. Apparently, the other Harry (he couldn't keep thinking of him as Harry- Potter would work) didn't go outside and play or fly. He always sat indoors studying. Harry talked with Kaylee about Potter. He didn't want to scare his mum by acting out of character again. Kaylee told him about Potter's quirks and habits. He was a decent flyer, but she'd only seen him fly when pressured into it by Draco. He didn't enjoy flying the way their dad or Tom did.

Harry was shocked when he heard that piece of news. Tom happened to be in the room at the time.

"...and he doesn't really like to fly. I've seen him play a couple of times with Draco, but he never let himself enjoy flying. It was always more of a chore for him," Kaylee said, not noticing the look on Harry's face.

"He didn't like flying? How? Why? What was wrong with him?" Harry said, confused. "There's no way you can expect me to stop flying or playing Quidditch! It's the only thing I'm good at!" he said, desperately.

Tom couldn't hide an excited grin. "You like to fly? Really? Wanna go right now?" he said, jumping up.

Harry grinned. "Yeah, I'd love to. Do you have a broom I could use? I remember someone telling me that they broke my broom," he said, teasingly. Kaylee had flushed, and protested.

"It was an accident! And besides, I think you have a spare somewhere. Just in case."

"Yeah, Harry always had one stored somewhere in case something came up. It was under his bed, I think, let me go find it," Tom said, rushing out of the room. Kaylee paused for a moment before asking Harry a question.

"Harry, what do you mean 'it's the only thing I'm good at'? You're good at everything!" she exclaimed. "You get perfect grades in every subject except Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Kaylee, here I might be as smart as Hermione. But in my world, I'm pretty much average at everything. The only thing I'm pretty good at is DADA class. Everything else is average or below. Quidditch is the one thing that comes naturally to me. It's the one thing that I'm better at then most people," Harry said, sighing. "I couldn't give up flying."

Tom rushed in, holding three brooms. "Let's go!" he said, giving one broom to Harry and one to Kaylee. "Er, sorry about the state of that broom-Harry never care much about it," Tom said to Harry, shuddering a bit when he looked at the broom.

Harry shrugged. "As long as it gets me off the ground, I'm good," he said.

As soon as the hit a large clearing in the trees behind the house, Tom immediately took off. He started flying loops and circles, whooping as he flew. "Wahooo!" he shouted as he flew past Kaylee, who scowled at her older brother.

"Come on Harry!" Tom shouted. Harry glanced at Kaylee before mounting the broom. He hovered for a few seconds, getting used to the broom, before he took off at lightning speed. Tom stopped and his jaw dropped. Kaylee laughed.

* * *

James sat in his favorite chair, waiting for Lily to get home. She was out visiting someone-he hadn't paid very much attention to whom. His attention was focused on someone else. His eldest son. 

Harry had been normal the first week. He was shut off, away to himself for the whole week, ever since they had returned from Hogwarts. After the first week, something about Harry had changed. Kaylee and Tom had started spending more time with their older brother. James had worried at first, but Tom and Kaylee had insisted that it was fine, and that they would stay where James could find them quickly if something came up. James sighed. He knew that his son was planning to become a Death Eater, if he wasn't already. The only thing that reassured James was the state of the wards. They were strong and in full working order, and they were specifically spelled to keep out people who intended to hurt a member of the family. Harry had walked through them without so much of a shudder, so James had reluctantly left his eldest son alone. For the past five years, Harry had been quiet—sometimes James had a hard time knowing whether Harry was actually in the house or not.

His son hadn't always been a quiet boy, though. He'd been the regular troublemaker before Hogwarts. James laughed to himself as he remembered one time that Harry got stuck in the highest tree outside because he was 'checking for bad birdies'. He'd been three at the time. His son had always been worried about the rest of the family. When Tom was born, Harry wouldn't let anyone near him. Not even James himself. Only Lily was allowed near their younger son for a week before Harry relaxed and let people come near. He was the same when Kaylee was born. Now, Harry just seemed distant. He never participated in family activities. He hadn't come home for Christmas once the five years he'd been at Hogwarts.

Lily's arrival broke James' train of thought. She called to the family that dinner was ready. When she didn't get a reply, she went to the window and checked outside in the back yard. She immediately called for James.

"James! Look outside!" she said, her face with a small but unsure grin. He came over to the window to find three children playing tag in the air on brooms. He grinned and hugged his wife. Harry was outside, and enjoying it? That was a good sign, surely. James didn't want to question what had brought the sudden change in his son, but maybe they could still get through to him.

James sat down at the table as his wife finished serving the food. His three children came rushing in, obviously hungry from the day's exercise. They began talking in low tones, but James could still hear them. Kaylee was talking about a past prank of Toms', and Tom was vehemently denying everything.

James looked over at Harry. His eyes were sparkling somewhat like Dumbledore's when Kaylee had finished telling him. It looked like he was desperately trying to hold in laughter. Laughter? That couldn't be right, he hadn't seen Harry laugh since...well, forever.

Tom glanced at Harry and apparently saw the twinkling eyes. He turned several shades of red and exclaimed, "That was Fred and George, not me, I swear!" He saw that Harry didn't believe him, and he added, "Well, they did most of it! All I did was put it in McGonagall's room. I was young and impressionable."

James smiled as he remembered the owl he had received from Minerva when that had happened. Minerva had to spend a day as Severus Snape. The twins had invented a new treat that was sort of like polyjuice potion, except it lasted all day, and they personalized the treats and called them GingerSnapes. James had laughed for nearly a week when he'd heard about it.

James grin vanished and he frowned when he remembered that day they had received an owl about Harry. They hadn't had too many owls about Harry. The first one had arrived after Harry had been sorted.

At first he had thought Snape was trying to trick him, but soon Harry sent home a letter saying he was sorted into Slytherin, and at first he wasn't too happy about it. Harry had written home, saying that he'd met a boy named Draco Malfoy, but other than that, he didn't really like Slytherin house.

_Everyone here hides what they truly feel,_ Harry had written. _Snape truly is an evil bastard, Dad. He takes points from Gryffindors for just breathing. However, I can't complain much because he seems to favor Slytherins. _

The letters had come less frequently, and the last letter they'd received from their eldest son had been the letter informing them that he was staying at Hogwarts for Christmas in his first year. James and Lily had been bewildered, but no amount of begging could get their son to come home. Harry, apparently, was much more fond of Slytherin than before.

_Hmm_, James thought sadly. _Harry got used to it, just like he got used to being a Death Eater_.

However, the boy sitting across the table didn't look anything like a Death Eater. He was sitting with his siblings, trying to hold in laughter that was bound to come out sometime. He looked like a normal teenage boy who was home for the summer.

The rest of the days passed the same way. Harry was constantly in the company of Tom and Kaylee. They seemed to have a good time, which was extremely strange. Harry seemed very patient with the two, and James constantly found himself paying more attention to his eldest son, looking for any suspicious behavior. He'd seen nothing bad.

As they approached the end of July, James had never been in a better mood. He had to work every day, but he had started spending as much time at home as he could. Voldemort was giving him quite a time with his random death eater raids. No one knew where he was going to attack next.

James also hadn't noticed his son going missing. Usually during the summer he would spend whole weeks at Malfoy Manor, probably off going to death eater meetings, but the second half of the summer he had stayed at home. James was convinced that Harry was trying to change for the good. He couldn't have been happier. Kaylee and Tom were constantly hanging around their older brother, almost to the point that James had to wonder who was the real parent-he or Harry.

Harry's birthday was coming up, and James didn't know what to do. Usually they gave their eldest child new robes or specified books that he wanted (mind you, they never gave him Dark Art's books) or even new potion supplies. However, with Harry acting so different this year, James didn't know what to do. When he talked with Lily about it, she was just as puzzled.

"Honestly, I don't know James-why don't you ask one of the kids. They've all been spending a lot of time together."

James trekked up to Kaylee's room only to find Harry and Kaylee talking about something.

"I don't know, Harry. Are you sure Ron wasn't under some kind of spell?"

"No, I promise. Remember, I was the one who 'supposedly' cursed him. I swear, the same thing happened to him. I wonder if any of my other friends are in the same boat. I bet Mione would have this figured out by now," he said. James frowned. Mione? Who was that? Why was his son talking about Ronald Weasley?

"Well, I don't know how you're going to find out, Harry. It's not like you're friendly with these people here. What if they are the normal people and they try and hex you? Then what?" Kaylee asked, his voice filled with worry. James decided to interrupt the conversation. He didn't like the direction that it was heading.

"Kaylee? Honey? Can I talk to you for a second?" he said, entering the room. Kaylee nodded. Harry shot a small smile at her before he left.

"What is it daddy?" she asked.

"Well, I was wondering if you had any ideas on what to do for Harry's birthday."

* * *

Kaylee thought back to everything Harry had told her. She wanted to do something really good for his birthday. From the little he had told her, it seemed like he didn't get much of anything on his birthdays. She still hadn't managed to figure out what had happened to his parents. Harry's tone always went dark when he talked about his family, so Kaylee had quickly learned to avoid the subject. 

"I don't know, daddy, but I have an idea," she said, a plan forming in her head. She knew that Harry missed his best friends, Ron and Hermione. She didn't really know where Hermione was (or why that name sounded so familiar), but she knew that her dad knew Arthur Weasley, Ron's dad. This was going to be long shot, because the last time she'd seen Mr. Weasley, he had looked ready to kill Harry, but she hoped that Harry could at least talk to his best friend for his birthday. He would really appreciate that.

* * *

Harry wondered downstairs, and found himself in the ballroom with the piano. He had learned a great deal from that piano. It was if it held some sort of bank into Potter's memories. Every time he concentrated, he could touch the piano and receive some other memory. He sat down and ran his hands over the ivory keys. He marveled at this instrument that he knew how to play (well, not him, Potter). 

He played a chord (not actually knowing it was called a chord). The specific chord triggered a fleeting memory, and if by autopilot, Harry started to play. The tune sounded so familiar and soothing. He'd heard it before, somewhere, and definitely before he arrived in this world. It was a quiet, flowing song that he could almost hum. It sounded like---

"That's the lullaby I used to sing to you when you were just a baby. I didn't know you knew it, or even remembered it," Lily said. Harry looked up, somewhat startled. He hadn't seen her come in. He hadn't seen much of his parents the month he'd been here, and it really hurt him to stay away from them. He realized that however much he wanted to hug them and never let go, it would seem suspicious and they would be set on guard. It was _killing_ him to stay away, but at least he got to see him. _And_, he thought, almost happily, _they really seem to be warming up to me._

"I don't know how I remember it. It just kind of came to me," he said, honestly, returning to the conversation. Lily smiled warmly, and it sent powerful emotions through him. He had longed to see any kind of love for so long, and here was his mother giving it to him.

"I used to sing it to you to get you to sleep at night. You never were a heavy sleeper. And after Halloween, you never went to sleep alone," she said, quietly.

Harry was puzzled, but tried not to show it. Halloween? He'd learned from Kaylee that Voldemort was still alive, and Harry wasn't the boy-who-lived. What had happened? He knew Sirius was still alive, so he hadn't become their secret-keeper. Maybe Wormtail had stayed true? He resolved to find out more about what had happened, and admonished himself for not wondering what had happened earlier.

Lily left him to his thoughts, and he watched her leave sadly. _I will find out what happened,_ he thought determinedly.


	4. Secrets Discovered

Chapter 4: Secrets Discovered

AN: This chapter has been edited. (2/25/06). Getting closer to updating!

James sighed. After talking with his daughter, he was very confused. Why on earth would Harry want to see Ronald Weasley? He was a very nice boy, very tall and gangly, with bright red hair and a face full of freckles. From what Albus had told him, Ronald was the boy that Harry was rumored to have captured (and heaven forbid, tortured) towards the end of the school year.

Was it fair for him to ask the boy to sacrifice his safety in order to see his son happy? And why exactly would this make Harry happy? All Kaylee would say was that this would make Harry happy. She said she was positive Ron would say yes, which was surprising in itself.

James almost stumbled on the last stair because he was so deep in thought. He reached the bottom of the stairs, and headed for the kitchen. However, a familiar melody made him stop. It sounded like a lullaby, one that Lily used to hum to calm Harry down years ago. James felt extremely confused. Things just weren't adding up.

His son was a Death Eater—or very close to being one. He knew that fact, and, as much as he tried to deny it, he thought he had seen the Dark Mark on Harry's arm. Harry was a Slytherin. His best friend was Draco Malfoy, son of the infamous Lucius Malfoy, who had wormed his way out of going to Azkaban due to Voldemort's power reign.

His son was dating Miss Parkinson, daughter of Roland and Sandy Parkinson, two well known Death Eaters.

Kaylee always avoided Harry-as had Tom.

Harry never flew.

Harry always studied.

Harry hadn't played piano in close to six years.

Harry always snapped at Lily when she asked him questions. He never even talked to his own father.

So what was wrong with Harry? Now, according to Kaylee, he wanted to hang out with Ronald Weasley, a boy whose parents were notorious Order of the Phoenix members. A boy he had tortured over the end of the school year.

But Harry wasn't under any spell. Albus had checked him for any kind of lingering spells or potions. James had checked again in the middle of the month, just to be sure, but he'd come up with nothing. Harry really was Harry, and he was acting of his own free will. Either this was an elaborate ploy by his son, or the _other _possibility. Harry was changing—for the better. James refused to get his hopes up, just in case, but he was finding it harder and harder not to believe that Harry was truly coming around.

He tried to clear his head. For now, he had to find Lily and ask her about Harry's birthday.

* * *

Lily sighed. It had been so long since she sang that lullaby to Harry as a baby. He was so innocent, and so sweet. Where had she gone wrong? Why had her baby grown up to become a Death Eater? He was never into the dark arts as a child-in fact; he was always learning new things, things out of James' old Auror books. They'd humored him at first, but when they realized he was serious they'd taught him things out of old school books. He didn't actually have a wand of his own, but sometimes they'd let him borrow one of theirs.

Harry was an extremely intelligent boy, and also an extremely powerful one. He'd been doing accidental magic at age two, when Kaylee hadn't started until she was six. Tom had been seven and a half.

He never wanted to fly a whole lot like his brother and sister, preferring to learn magic or read books. In fact, she hadn't ever seen Harry enjoying himself on a broom until two or three weeks ago. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't realize that Harry had walked into the kitchen until he cleared his throat.

"Er-mum?" Harry said, softly, breaking her thoughts.

"Yes, Harry?" she said, keeping her voice calm even though she was jumping inside. It wasn't often Harry talked to her on his own accord.

"Do you hate Har-er-me because I went to Slytherin instead of Gryffindor?" he asked, somewhat hesitant. She looked at him, and in that instant he looked like a lost child again, instead of the cold teenager who'd been in the house the past five years.

Lily's eyes widened, and her heart sank. Harry thought she hated him! Granted, these past four or five years, she'd turned considerably colder towards her son. He'd come back from school very cold, sarcastic, and harsh. He ignored his family when he could, and when he had to talk to them, he was not the boy they'd known before. All of the members of the family had handled his changed attitude differently: Tom had become angry, and felt betrayed by his older brother. Kaylee was just sad and confused by her brother's actions, and James would pointedly ignore his oldest son. Lily thought her husband believed that it was _his_ fault Harry had gone dark, and that he felt guilty for it all the time. Lily—she felt like she had let down her son. Why had he turned dark? He'd had everything as a child!

"Oh, no Harry, I don't hate you at all. Sometimes..." she paused, unsure if she should continue. "Sometimes I don't understand why you want to do the things you do, but I could never hate you," she said, trying to hold back tears. Her oldest baby thought she hated him! What kind of a mother was she, if her child was living in a house where he felt hated? She felt horrible. Lily had sworn that after her sister had treated her with so much hate that she would never treat anyone like that, especially not her own family. She knew how much it could hurt.

Had Harry lived this whole time thinking his parents didn't love him? Is that what drove him to be a Death Eater? No—if that was the case, she'd go crazy.

"Harry, why did you ask me that? Do you think I hate you?" she asked, desperately trying to tell herself it wasn't true.

"No!" he said quickly. "It's just...what if I had the option to be in Gryffindor, but I chose Slytherin?"

Lily was confused. Did Harry have a choice? Had the Sorting Hat given him a choice? She was hard pressed to imagine why Harry would choose Slytherin over Gryffindor, especially after hearing James' stories about Severus and the rest of the Slytherins.

"Honey, whatever you chose was your decision, and I'm sure you had your reasons. If you chose Slytherin over Gryffindor, that gives me no reason to hate you," she said, calmly.

Until then, Harry had been over her shoulder at something behind her. She gasped when he looked up at her.

His eyes were...different. They were old, dark, and full of emotion that a fifteen-almost-sixteen year old shouldn't have. These were not Harry's eyes. Yes, his eyes were dark, and they never brightened. They always seemed to be dull, hard eyes, just like Lily's grandmother. But they were never so old. These emerald eyes were aged beyond recognition; they held pain, sorrow, fear...and happiness that she hadn't seen in Harry's eyes in a long time.

They were not Harry's eyes. She knew what her baby looked like.

And his eyes did not look like that.

* * *

James walked into the kitchen, and found his wife and first son talking softly. Not wanting to interrupt, he began to leave but stopped when he heard Lily gasp. Turning around quickly, he saw Lily get up abruptly. Frowning, he walked over to his wife, hoping that Harry hadn't said anything rude or disrespectful. He'd gone almost a month without being cruel and harsh.

"Lily? Is everything ok?" he asked softly, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her.

She was very white, and shook in his arms. She looked afraid of something and he prayed it wasn't Harry's doing. He looked towards Harry. Harry looked down at his feet, but not quick enough to hide the moisture in his eyes.

"Harry? Lily? What's wrong?" he asked, getting concerned as Lily continued to stare at Harry like she'd seen a ghost. Harry just shook his head, and mumbled, "Nothing, dad. I'm going to go."

He walked out of the kitchen in the direction of the ballroom.

James turned to his wife, and asked her again what startled her. She blinked a couple of times, and shook her head, much like Harry had done just seconds ago. She twisted out of his grip, and followed Harry, with a determined stride James hadn't seen in a while. It was her old 'I'm going to get answers, and Merlin help the person that gets in my' walk, one that he recognized well from their days in school. He sighed and followed his wife, only to find his son sitting at the piano again, sitting there with his hands poised like he was going to play.

James frowned as Harry went stiff for a second, before staring off into space.

"Harry? Is something wrong?" he asked his son, but he received no answer. His son didn't appear to be able to hear him.

"Harry?" James asked, a bit louder. He still received no reply from Harry. He was shocked as Harry came out of whatever trance he was in before, and practically flew away from the piano. He heard a strangled, half-sobbed whisper come from his son.

"Hermione!"

* * *

Harry flung himself back from the piano as hard as he could, knocking the bench over in the process. He tried to take a breath, but found he was having trouble breathing. His lungs weren't working, for some reason. It could be the fact that he was so horrified---

"Harry! What's wrong?" he could hear people asking. Who were they? Their voices were extremely fuzzy. All he knew was that Hermione, his best friend, had been captured by Death Eaters. He'd just seen a memory of Potter's that he would have rather not seen. Hermione had been captured, tortured, and beaten by Death Eaters! In the memory he'd seen, she'd been so bruised and bloody that he didn't know how she could have survived it.

And worst of all, that bastard everyone called Voldemort had ordered Harry to cast one of the Unforgivables-crucio. He'd been forced to watch Hermione suffer as he cast the curse over and over, probably causing her to go insane. The thing that broke his heart was the look she'd given him in between curses—one of complete and total loathing. She hated him with the same ferocity that he hated Voldemort.

Harry felt sick-he knew that he himself hadn't cast the curse-it had been the other Harry. However, the thought of casting that particular curse on one of his best friends made him sick to his stomach. He broke away from the arms that had tried to surround him. He needed space-he needed to think, to sort his memories.

He ran, ran away from his parents, ran away from his sister who was sitting on the steps, and ran from his brother who was flying in the air in the back yard. He took off running down the street, not pausing to look back. He couldn't get the mental image out of his mind-his best friend was lying on the cold ground, twitching with pain. Her nerves probably couldn't handle any more. Her face was bruised all over the place, and had a couple cuts on the right cheek that hadn't been treated properly and were infected. It meant she'd been captive for more than one day.

Was she even still alive? Or had she gone insane with the torture?

How could a person do that? How could they hate someone so much as to cast that horrible curse on that person? It caused her so much pain-it broke his heart just thinking about it. How did you muster enough hate to try and cast Crucio, knowing it would cause that much pain?

And then he froze in his tracks-he'd tried to cast Crucio on Bellatrix Lestrange. He had been angry enough to attempt one of the Unforgivables on a human being.

But she killed his godfather-didn't she deserve it?

Was it right to hurt someone who deserved it?

Hermione definitely didn't deserve the horrid curse.

But Lestrange did, right? She killed Sirius; she tortured the Longbottoms until they went insane, and probably killed numerous other innocents.

She deserved it. She, herself, had caused so much pain that it was only right that she receive some of that pain. She had it coming. She, and all the other death eaters out there who had harmed numerous amounts of people.

Of course, what if they didn't want to be a Death Eater in the first place? What if they were spying, like Snape? What if their parents forced them into becoming a Death Eater, like Draco or Pansy?

Did they deserve pain for something they were forced to do?

Harry had to sit down. There were too many thoughts running through his head-he didn't know what was right or wrong anymore. Everything used to be black and white-if you used an Unforgivable, you were evil. If you killed people for fun, you were evil. All Death Eaters were evil. Now there were grey areas, especially after seeing Potter's memories. Who decides just what is evil? Who knows which people deserve to be shut in Azkaban, and those who deserve to die? Potter had a deeper reason to becoming a Death Eater.

Harry had finally come to the conclusion that Potter was a very reluctant Death Eater—not that he showed that Voldemort or any of the other Death Eaters. The emotions that came with the memories were never pleasant ones. When he tortured someone, there was no pleasure: pain, fear, and a hardened resolve were present, but never happiness as one would expect from a Death Eater. Potter was a Death Eater for reasons other than he simply like to torture people.

While these thoughts ran through his head, one image kept popping up.

It was his best friend, bleeding and shaking at his feet, refusing to give into the torture-refusing to plead for mercy.

* * *

James was concerned-for both his wife and his eldest son.

Lily hadn't said a word since Harry had stormed out-it was as if she were a zombie. Her face had paled, and her body, though it had stopped shaking, was weak. She couldn't stand or hold a glass of water to drink-she just sat in the chair James had placed her in.

His son had stormed out, with a look of pure pain on his face. It had been the rawest expression he'd seen on his son's face since the day he was born. Something had obviously disturbed his son-something horrible.

Kaylee and Tom didn't know what to do. Both had seen Harry run out of the house, but neither had been able to catch him. Kaylee went up to her dad and touched his shoulder.

"What's wrong with mum?" she asked.

"I don't know honey. She's in a bit of shock right now. Why don't you and Tom go upstairs for a bit?" he said, not really paying attention to what he was saying. What could possibly be wrong with Lily?

* * *

Lily was frozen. That boy was not Harry. He looked like Harry, with the messy hair and James' physique. All except for those eyes-those were not Harry's eyes.

Was he a Death Eater taking polyjuice potion? Had something possessed Harry? What happened?

She could hear her husband asking if she was fine. She chose not to answer- she needed to think, damn it! Why was it that this boy looked so much like her Harry? She hadn't seen any signs of polyjuice...but she was out of practice for recognizing that sort of thing.

She felt a warm presence next to her, and she realized that James had left, but Kaylee had come and curled up next to her.

"What's wrong mum? Is Harry ok?" she asked. Lily smiled at her daughter.

"Oh, honey, I hope so. Mum's just confused right now," she told her youngest child, not wanting to worry her.

"Is it because Harry's different?" Kaylee said, in an innocent sort of way that made Lily realize Kaylee knew much more than she was letting on.

"Kay? Do you know something that I don't?" she asked, with a little bit of anxiety in her voice.

"Well, mum, it's kind of hard to explain, and I don't think you'll believe me," she said.

"Why don't you try me?" Lily asked, turning so she was facing her daughter.

Kaylee sighed.

"Alright mum. It's like this-Harry disappeared. In his place came a new Harry-one from a different world. In his world, the new Harry is a Gryffindor. He isn't a Death Eater, and never plans on being one." She took a breath. "I don't think he ever really knew his parents, from the way he talks, but his best friend is Ron Weasley, and someone named Hermione Granger."

She stopped for a second to see if her mum was actually listening. Lily stared at her daughter, trying to see if she was pulling her leg. Kay was never good at lying-and she didn't appear to be lying this time. But honestly—alternate worlds? That kind of thing was only discussed in fairy tales. They weren't something of real life.

"Kay," she said, trying to find a way to talk to her daughter without completely insulting her. "Do you think maybe there is a different explanation to this?"

Kaylee frowned, and Lily immediately knew that her daughter believed what she was saying.

"Mum-I told you that you wouldn't believe me. I swear I'm not making this up. I can give you proof. Listen to everything I've found out," she said. And she began to inform her mother of the differences between the 'two' Harry's. This Harry loved to play Quidditch, something Lily was forced to admit that Harry did not particularly enjoy. He hadn't studied once this summer-something that usually occupied her son through breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

He didn't go to any Death Eater meetings. Lily also had to admit she hadn't found her son's bed empty once in the past month.

"-and he doesn't have the Dark Mark, and you know you can't cover it up, and he-"

"What do you mean he doesn't have the Dark Mark? I've seen it, Kay. We all have."

"I know, but it's not there! You can look for yourself!"

Lily looked at her daughter, checking silently for signs of a controlling spell. She wouldn't have put it past Harry in the past. There was nothing, and Lily felt a small bubble of hope growing.

Lily tried not to get her hopes up-but it was hard. What if this strange boy really was Harry from a different world? One where he wasn't a Death Eater, or he hadn't killed people? She put away the utter insanity of the situation, and allowed herself to dream. She'd always wondered what her son would be like had he been a Gryffindor. What if this was her time to find out?

* * *

Harry woke up. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep until he'd opened his eyes and the sky was dark. He'd left sometime around lunch.

His head was still spinning with thoughts and emotions as he walked back to his house. He'd run into the middle of a deep forest, one that surrounded the small house that the Potters lived in.

He really needed someone to talk to. Ron, or even Hermione. He had to make sure that Hermione was ok. Even though he knew _his_ Hermione was perfectly safe, he couldn't help but worry about one of his best friends- even if he technically didn't know her.

He reached the house with one thought running through his head-what if Hermione had come here with Ron? It was entirely possible, right? If Ron had come, why wouldn't Hermione? Maybe there was a chance he could talk to her. He didn't think that his parents would be willing to let him visit a girl he'd tortured to insanity, but maybe he could sneak off sometime.

As Harry walked back to the house, a very disturbing thought hit him. Here, both of his best friends had suffered under his hand—Ron had been kidnapped at the end of the year, and Hermione had been tortured sometime during his second or third year, he wasn't sure.

Both his best friends had suffered—had any of his family?

Harry decided he didn't want to know the answer.


	5. Reluctant Acceptance

Chapter 5: Reluctant Acceptance

AN: Edited 08/08/2006. Again, the chapters might not quite mesh, but I'm getting there.

Harry walked through the back door, wanting nothing more than to go straight to Dumbledore and demand that the old wizard send him home. Unfortunately, that brought up the unpleasant reminder that Dumbledore believed him to be a Death Eater. He groaned, and hoped that wherever his friends were, they were ok. His groan had alerted his presence to his waiting mother and sister, and they both turned their heads his way. He looked at the both, feeling emotionally drained.

"Harry? Are you ok?" Kaylee asked softly,not meeting his gaze. He frowned--she was avoiding his eye contact. She only did that when he was mad at her--but he wasn't mad at her. So what was wrong?

He nodded. "Yeah," his voice was hoarse, though he couldn't figure out why. "I'm fine."

An awkward silence filled the room. Harry didn't know what to say, and he was pretty sure that Kaylee had something to tell him because she kept fidgeting. She was sitting down next to Lily, and she kept crossing and uncrossing her legs or messing with her fingernails. He just stood there, knowing she'd probably burst any second.

He was right.

"Oh—Harry! Will you sit down? I tried to explain to mum—but she doesn't quite believe me. You'll have to help me," she rambled, breaking the silence. She turned to Lily, and said desperately, "Mum, he'll show you, and you can test it to make sure he's not hiding it. Sit down, Harry."

Harry just stared blankly at Kay, totally confused. What in the name of Merlin's beard was she going on about?

Lily sighed, and looked over at her daughter. "Oh honey, it can wait for tomorrow. I just got overly excited today. Let's do this tomorrow when we all have the energy and the patience," she said wearily.

"No! We're going to straighten this out tonight! I'm tired of having to keep it a secret!" she answered hotly. "Harry, to start with, sit down!" she ordered.

Harry almost laughed at the face she was making, but decided it would be detrimental to his health to laugh at his sister when she got in a mood like this. He sat down on the couch across from his mother and sister, who were sharing a large armchair.

Kay started up once he sat down. "Harry, first of all, I told mum everything; what happened at the beginning of the summer, what you're like, and things like that."

"She said you don't have the Dark mark," Lily interrupted, like a young student eager for information. "And I know it's not possible to hide it, I mean, you could probably cover it up with make-up, but I was wondering...if you could show me," she said, losing her courage at the end. Harry frowned wearily, but lifted his sleeve to show his unblemished arm.

Lily looked it over, and muttered a spell. A bright light glowed around his arm for a second, and then the light faded, leaving his unmarred arm. Lily broke out into a huge smile, and engulfed Harry in a huge hug. Surprised, Harry froze, not knowing what to do. The only other hug he'd received from a mother-figure was from Mrs. Weasly. Helet out asmall smileas he realized that it was HIS mother giving him the hug this time.

When she pulled back, her eyes were lit with a fire that Harry hadn't seen before. They looked like Hermione's eyes whenever she was determined to know something.

Hermione! What had happened to Hermione? With all the confusion from Kaylee, he hadn't had time to ask about 'Mione. Before his mother could start asking him questions (which he knew she was going to do) he blurted out his question.

"Can I ask you a question?" Without waiting for a real response, he asked hopefully, "Do either of you know Hermione Granger?"

Lily shut her eyes and leaned back into the chair, her grin gone. Kaylee frowned, her forehead crinkled in confusion. She looked as though she was trying to place a name with a face. Harry froze—this was the reaction he didn't want. He panicked.

"What happened? Is she dead? I saw...a memory...please, tell me...she isn't dead, is she!" He said, all with extreme rapidity. "She can't be dead! Please! I...it wasn't me, I swear!" he said, incredibly confused and afraid. He hadn't tortured her—butPotter had. What if he had killed her? Could he live knowing(even though this wasn't his 'Mione) that he had killed his best friend, that in this world, Hermione Granger was...dead? Even if she was alive, was it possible that she was sane? There were too many possibilities! Why weren't they answering his questions?

"Harry, why do you want to know? That's just unpleasant memories, honey," his mother said softly. Harry cringed. That could mean nothing good.

"Please—what happened to her? I have to know," he said desperately.

Just as Lily was ready to start talking, James walked in.

"Harry—you're back. Are you ok?" he asked, coming up behind his wife and placing a hand on her shoulder. Harry just ignored him—he wanted to know if Hermione was alive.

"Just tell me if she's alive," he begged. He kept his eyes on his mother's. Her eyes were moist with tears.

"Yes---she's...alive," she whispered. Harry sighed with relief. Hermione wasn't dead!

James looked confused. He looked at his wife for an explanation, but she had started to get up.

"I'll go start dinner," she announced, and left the room quickly, wiping unshed tears from her eyes. Harry just watched her go, wondering what she knew that she wouldn't tell him.

* * *

The next day was less stressful. Most of the day was spent in the Potter's living room. It appeared that Lily had informed her slightly confused husband about what Kaylee told her about Harry, and he was just as anxious to know if it was the truth. 

The living room was a beautiful room, decorated in gold and dark green. The walls were a very light green, and the ceiling stretched at least two stories high. The carpet was a fuzzy dark forest green that squished between Harry's toes. There were two couches, both upholstered in a comfortable green fabric with gold trim. There were two chairs as well, both a dark green with gold pillows. Harry felt it was the perfect blend between the two colors.

He chose to sit in one of the chairs, and James sat in the other one. Lily and Kay took one of the couches. Tom was over at a friend's house, but he'd be back in about an hour.

James, apparently not one to wait long for anything, started out with a question. "Is the Dark mark gone?"

Harry nodded, and lifted his sleeve (the second time in the last twelve hours). When James was satisfied that no disguises remained, a rather large grin appeared on his face.

"So—you've convinced me that you are definitely a different person than our Harry—and I know you're not using polyjuice potion—"

"How?" Harry interrupted.

"Well, your magical aura would be corrupted. In my specific branch of the Auror department, we're trained to recognize certain clues that a person is using polyjuice potion. And, I don't want to brag," he said with a smile and wink towards Lily, "but Sirius and I were the best in our division."

Lily huffed, but couldn't help smiling.

"Sirius!" Harry said, shocked. It sounded bad, but he hadn't thought of Sirius's death since the first week that he'd been here. He'd had so many new memories and things to deal with that he hadn't given his death a second thought. A sudden pain filled his heart, but he pushed it back. He'd deal with that when he was alone. He didn't want to depress his family.

James stopped smiling. "Yeah, Sirius. He doesn't really like you all that much. I think he sees you as a coward. He had to grow up with his horrible family, and then Voldemort tried recruiting him, and he still refused to become a Death Eater. However, we're not a dark family so according to Sirius you had no reason to go dark—er, that's Sirius's logic for you. I can't really understand him sometimes," James said, giving a small chuckle.

"Er—can you tell me something?" he asked, pausing to get the question worded correctly. "Did Voldemort come after you about fifteen years ago?"

Lily frowned, thinking. "Well, about the time you were a year old, Harry, we received inside information that Voldemort was going to come after us, for some reason. We were told to go into hiding. Dumbledore wanted us to have a Secret Keeper. The Fidilus charm is a spell hides you from everyone. Even if someone was standing in the same room as us they wouldn't be able to see us unless our Secret Keeper told them where we were. James wanted to use Sirius, but Sirius thought it was too obvious to use him. He suggested either Peter Pettigrew or Remus Lupin. Dumbledore wasn't sure about that—he wanted to be our secret keeper."

Harry, having already heard the story, wondered if the prophesy existed in this world. The Potters weren't dead, so obviously something had changed there. It seemed like his world and this world were the same until fifteen years ago. Something changed, and from that point on everything was different.

"Well, I suggested we use Remus Lupin. I had always trusted him more than Sirius or Peter anyways," Lily said. "Sirius, however, wasn't sure that Remus was completely on our side, because he was a werewolf. Voldemort had been recruiting them for years."

"Lily finally decided we should just use Dumbledore as our secret keeper. We didn't want to harm any of our friends by placing them in obvious danger, and we knew that Voldemort was already after Dumbledore, so it wasn't placing him in more harm than before," James said.

Harry's thoughts wandered back to the prophesy. If it did exist, but Voldemort hadn't marked him, Harry Potter, as an equal, then did that mean he didn't have to kill Voldemort? Maybe that job was left to---Neville Longbottom.

"Voldemort couldn't find us, and a few years later, gave up looking, I guess. Dumbledore removed the charm, but we still don't go out very often. Just in case."

So no one got rid of Voldemort's powers—that meant he'd been at full strength the whole time! Who knew how powerful he was now. Harry shuddered—a reborn Voldemort was bad enough—but imagine one that hadn't lost fifteen years in his reign of terror. How could there still be life left on Earth?

"So he's been alive this whole time..." he muttered to himself. "Did he attack any other families at the same time he was looking for you?" Maybe in this world, Neville was the boy-who-lived.

"Yes...I believe he went after the Longbottoms as well, but he couldn't find them. I'm pretty sure Dumbledore recommended the same thing for them as he did us. They used to be good friends of ours, but during this war you don't know who you can trust anymore. With you--er--Harry being a known Death Eater, they started to avoid us," James said.

Harry looked over at his father, wondering if he knew anything about the prophesy—if it existed. It appeared that Voldemort hadn't marked either of the boys his equal. The question rang through Harry's mind---how were they going to kill Voldemort if nobody had succeeded yet?

"Onto happier subjects," James suddenly said. "Lily told me that you were in Gryffindor!"

Harry grinned at his father's sudden change in mood. He nodded.

"Why don't you tell us about your world, Harry?" Lily said. "Kay told us some things, but she didn't know much about you."

"Um—where should I start?" Harry asked. There were some things that would be better left unsaid.

"How about school? How are you doing in school? What's your favorite subject?" Lily asked, getting a little excited. James just laughed.

"Lily—he doesn't want to talk about school—what about Quidditch? Do you play? I saw you on a broom the other day—pretty good. Although, you got some pretty good genes," James said with a joking smile on his face.

Lily scowled at her husband. "At least you didn't acquire your father's big head," she said shortly. James just laughed again. Harry watched with amusement as his parents started bickering like teenagers. He smiled as he realized how much he was missing in the other world.

"Actually," he said, breaking up the mini-argument, "school is fine. I like Defense against the dark arts classes the best. They're the only classes that I actually do pretty well in. I'm ok at everything else---well, except Potions, but I think it's just because Snape teaches potions."

James got a sympathetic look on his face. "I feel your pain. I would hate to have Snape as a professor. He teaches Potions here, but Harry absolutely loved that class." James shook his head in wonder. "I have no idea why, though. So enough about school, what about Quidditch?"

* * *

He needed to get to the Department of Mysteries. That, or talk to Dumbledore. Considering how Dumbledore had reacted before, Harry didn't really want to go that route. He didn't want to spend the rest of his life in little pieces, thank you very much. He had to have some kind of evidence for Dumbledore, something more than just arm free of the Dark mark, if he wanted Dumbledore to believe that he was who he said he was. Dumbledore probably knew of some way that you could remove the Dark mark—after all, if Voldemort could put it on, why couldn't Dumbledore take off the mark? 

The reason he wanted to go the Department of Mysteries was because he needed to know if the prophesy existed. For some reason, that damn thing wouldn't leave his mind. He'd tried forgetting about it, but it seemed permanently attached to his brain. He'd subtly asked James and Lily about it, but neither let on that they knew anything about it. He'd even asked Kaylee, but she hadn't heard of any prophesies (which was to be expected).

He also needed to talk to Ron—he wondered how his best friend was doing. He hadn't heard from Ron since the day that they'd both been at Hogwarts. He was afraid to send an owl to Ron in case it got him in more trouble.

But the person he was really worried about was Hermione. He knew that she was alive—but he didn't know much more than that. Had his Hermione come with Ron and himself? Or was the other Hermione still here? What exactly had happened to the Hermione here? He found himself constantly worrying, for some reason. Why did he need to know so much? And did he even want to know what had happened? What if it gave him nightmares for years to come?

Pushing any unpleasant thoughts out of his mind, he started to think of his plan to get into the ministry. He could probably find the right floor, but did they allow visitors to just waltz in? Harry frowned—this would take some researching. He wondered how much trouble he'd be in if he was caught sneaking into the ministry of magic.

* * *

Cannon World, AU Harry

Harry looked around—his house was in ruins! He forced himself not to panic—it was never good to panic in such situations. He looked around, checking to see if there were any sign of attackers still left—always a good thing to do. Someone could come up right behind you when you found yourself faced with a startling situation.

Convinced no one was hiding in the bushes or cloaked with invisibility, Harry made his way closer to the ruins. He hoped that his family had gone out for breakfast this morning. Looking around the rubble, he realized something odd. The ruins looked—old. They were aged, worn down to practically nothing for what looked like years of weathering.

Harry frowned. Maybe he had accidentally transported himself through time, and this was his house ten years from now. It seemed highly impossible, but how else could you explain the ruins on which he stood? This attack on his house certainly hadn't happened this morning.

A sudden, chilling thought occurred to Harry. Just who had attacked his house? He had Voldemort's word that his family would go untouched if he (Harry) agreed to serve Voldemort. It couldn't have been Death Eaters, unless Voldemort was willing to face his wrath. He felt a cold fury build up inside. If he found out that Voldemort or his mindless followers had anything to do with this attack, there'd be hell to pay. Harry was not a force to be reckoned with.

* * *

Where was that stupid book? It was bound to be dusty because it was such a boring book. He knew it was red (or maybe blue?) He'd seen Hermione reading it a time or two, but even she had to admit it was frightfully boring. It was a book on the different levels of the Ministry. It described, in full detail, what kind of people worked in each section of the Ministry (save those in the Unspeakable department), and who was allowed on each level with certain levels of clearances. 

The Potter library was no where near the size of the Hogwarts library. It would have made it a lot easier to find what he was looking for if he knew what it was called or who wrote it. He was so involved in his search that he didn't realized that someone had come up behind him.

"Harry?" a voice asked. Harry jumped a little, startled, and turned around to find Tom behind him, a hopeful expression on his face.

"Oh, hi Tom. What are you doing in here?" he asked.

"Looking for you, actually. Dad has his broom out, as well as Kay, and we were wondering if you'd come join us for a bit. You've been in here all morning," he said. "Please?"

Harry sighed, but managed a small grin. "Sure—I'll be out in a second, ok?" he said. Tom whooped and ran out of the library. He'd told Harry earlier that the library always gave him the creeps.

Harry glanced over at the shelf one last time, and as he turned to leave, a book caught his eye: 'How to Be a Villain: a Guide to the Inner Workings of a Criminal Mastermind', by William Warner Willcock. It intrigued Harry, so he grabbed it and ran it upstairs to his room. He laid it on his bed, before grabbing his broom and heading back downstairs. He'd have to remember to take a look at it later.

Outside, everyone was waiting for him. Lily was sitting on a checked blanket on the ground, with a book in one hand. She didn't seem to be reading the book, though. Her eyes were locked on her two children and her husband who were all in the air trying to knock each other off their brooms.

Harry grinned as Tom dove straight for James, barely missing him. The look on his father's face was priceless. Before James could retaliate, Kay spotted Harry.

"Oy! Harry's here—now we can play a real game. Harry's on my team!" she cried, flying down to meet Harry. Harry grinned at his sister, for once forgetting about the prophesy.

"Let's see if you're as good as Kay claims you are," James said, grinning at his oldest son. "She tells me you were seeker for Gryffindor."

It appeared James believed his story—especially after Harry and Kay killed him and Tom in a two-on-two match.

* * *

"Rematch! I want a rematch! There is no way you could have caught the snitch already!" James cried. Despite his words, his face broke into a proud grin. His son was the best flyer he'd seen in a long time. He belonged in the air. He never had to adjust his position on the broom, or stop to catch his breath—it was all fluid motion. James could tell that Harry really loved to fly. 

He'd never seen Harry on a broom before—and actually enjoying the experience. This probably convinced him more than the lack of a Dark mark that Harry was who he claimed to be.

This was how he always wish Harry would have turned out—a Gryffindor, Quidditch maniac who loved spending time with his family. Harry didn't complain about anything, he even volunteered to help with cooking sometimes (Lily liked to do things the muggle way, and to tell the truth, they always tasted better). This Harry was almost perfect in every way.

Something bugged James though—why did Harry look so worn down all the time? It looked like he'd been through hell and lived to tell the tale. There was something wrong about that look on a fifteen (almost sixteen) year old boy.

The Potter family walked into the house, and Lily went to get supper ready. Kay, Tom, and Harry walked into the living room, as they often did, and Harry sat down on the piano bench. James started towards the kitchen, determined to get a taste of what they were having for dinner that night.

He smiled as he heard his children laughing at something, but frowned as the laughter abrubtly stopped. He walked back to the living room, wondering what was wrong. He called for his wife when he saw Harry on the ground, looking at the piano like it was Voldemort himself. He called for his wife, and went over to his oldest son.

"Harry, what's wrong? What happened?" Lily asked frantically, once she entered the room and saw Harry.

Harry whispered quietly, "Hermione's in a coma." His eyes were sad and tired, and there was a bit of darkness that James feared. He'd seen that darkness in his son's eyes before, and it frightened him.

Lily eyes waterd slightly as shesighed. "Yes, she was so badly beaten that her body lost all consciousness and went into shock. She's been in a coma for a little over a year," she said, softly.

James frowned as he remembered Dumbledore telling him that his son had tortured a student to the brink of insanity. It had been a year and a half ago. It had shaken Lily up so badly that she refused to come out of her room for a week.

"Did you know her in your world?" Tom asked, curiously. Harry nodded.

"Yes, she's my best friend. 'Mione's always been there for me—even when Ron wasn't—and seeing her tortured by, well, me, is horrible...I don't know how to explain it, I know that this Hermione isn't my 'Mione, but still..." Harry said, trailing off.

James decided that he needed something to take this sad memory off his son's mind. He didn't enjoy seeing those eyes filled with fear and self-hatred. For some reason, Harry and Lily's eyes were horrible at concealing emotions. It was one reason why he didn't like to get Lily truly mad at him. That woman could be scary when she was really angry.

"Harry, why don't we go grab some dinner," James suggested. He had an idea—one that would surely cheer up his son.

* * *

While Harry was busy eating, James contacted Arthur Weasly via Floo Powder. When his head appeared in the Weasly fireplace, he found himself staring at three red headed boys. Two of them looked incredibly identical, and the other looked to be about Harry's age. This one was probably Ronald. 

Ron saw the head first. "Harry? Bloody good to see you, mate," he cried happily, coming over to the fireplace. James grinned.

"Sorry, Ron, I'm James, Harry's father. Can I speak to you for a second?" he asked. James decided it would be better to speak to Ron about Harry's birthday.

"Er—sure. What about?" Ron asked, a bit confused. Why would Harry's dad want to talk to him.

"As you probably know, Harry's birthday is tomorrow, and I was wondering if you wanted to come to our house for a bit to help celebrate."

Ron grinned. Finally, he'd get to talk to Harry. It'd been so confusing here all summer—his family was a bit different than he remembered them. They were all so serious, and the twins were surprisingly mature. It was unnerving.

"I'd love too—although," he said, suddenly thinking of something, "I don't know how thrilled my dad's going to be. He doesn't really like Harry."

James reassured him. "Don't worry, I'll think of something."

* * *

Voldemort stared stonily at the youngest Malfoy. For someone who was so promising, the boy sure was dense sometimes. He wanted to know why Potter wasn't at the last meeting, and all this blond prick was giving him was excuses.

"Malfoy," he said, his voice cold, "did I ask you if Potter was sick? No. Did I ask if he couldn't escape his family's eye? No. I asked why he was not at the last meeting. Your answer should have been that he is _dead_, because that is the _only_ thing that should keep him from attending," he hissed.

Outwardly, the boy showed remarkable self restraint. He merely lifted an eyebrow, and said, "That is what I was able to discern, my lord. If you believe someone else more capable of gathering information, by all means, I will relinquishmy job to them."

The boy said this with no hint of sarcasim, and yet Voldemort was sure that the little snot was mocking him. Or perhapshis followers--but he wasn't sure. The brat had an air of sincerity, even whenVoldemort subtly scanned his mind.

"Nevermind that, Malfoy, I've got a new task for you. And you had better show more promising resultss than thiss," Voldemort said, his voice slightly sibilant. "I want you to go to the Ministry."


	6. A little bit of History

Chapter 6: A Little Bit of History

AN:Edited this chapter 08/10/2006.

Cannon World, AU Harry

Harry frowned. Digging through this rubble was getting him nowhere. He couldn't find any hints as to what had happened. Everything had burnt to a crisp, and then blown away with the wind. The person who had attacked his house hadn't left any clues.

But who exactly had attacked his house? Even after years (he assumed it had been years), the spot was still crawling with dark magic. He could feel it—it was definitely signature of a dark curse—and a powerful one at that. It probably ruled out the possibility that it had been any 'light' wizard, for they wouldn't have dared to use this much 'dark' magic.

Casting one last glance around, he apparated to Diagon Alley. He needed to find some kind of history book to see what had happened in the last several years. It wouldn't do for him to be in the future and be helpless. Someone could attack him at any moment. He'd also have to watch out for his future self. He didn't want to cause any time paradoxes.

Walking along the crowded street of Diagon Alley, he realized that they had fixed a couple of stores that had been destroyed in the attack his second year. They looked like they had before the Death Eater attack. And, he noticed, they'd done a good job, keeping true to the past form of the shops.

He kept his hood up as he walked. Sometimes, it was better to remain a face in the crowd.

* * *

_AU World_

**December 12, 1994**

**Professor Minerva McGonagall**

**Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

**Dear Mr. and Mrs. Granger,**

**It pains me to inform you of some rather bad news. Your daughter Hermione has been admitted to St. Mungo's, the best wizard hospital in Europe. Late yesterday evening, she was brutally attacked by a fellow classmate. This young person cast one of the deadliest and certainly most illegal curses on Hermione, and it has affected her rather badly. This curse causes the victim great internal pain, and most go insane under more than a couple of minutes of this curse. Unfortunately, she was under the curse for about an hour. Her condition is unstable at the moment, but we have the officials' word that she has not yet passed into the brink of insanity.**

**I'm sorry that this occurred right around the holidays, but I found it best to inform you right away. If you wish to see your daughter, please send this owl with your response and I will send someone to get you. Again, I am truly sorry about this horrible incident.**

**Minerva McGonagall**

* * *

**June 13, 1996,**

**Dear David and Anne,**

**Come to the hospital immediately. Hermione is awake.**

**Minerva**

* * *

Ron sat in his room, staring at the walls that did not look familiar. There were no bright orange posters of the Cannons, nor was the room painted orange. In fact, the only orange he could spot in this room was the orange shirt that lay crumpled in a pile on the floor. 

Instead, the room was red, with a bit of gold, and Ron was strongly reminded of the Gryffindor common room. This room, however, held no warmth for Ron. It was fake: the red was a bit too red, and the gold was more of a cheap yellow. It did not suit his tastes, for some reason, even though technically yellow and red made orange and gold and red were Gryffindor colors.

This world, the one that he and Harry had landed in, was utterly and completely boring. Because You-know-who hadn't died on Halloween, he had fifteen years more experience and power than the you-know-who of their own world. Here, even the name you-know-who sent shivers down his family's backs. You-know-who apparently ran most of the Ministry, not legally of course, but through simpletons who were too weak to stand up to you-know-who. Ron got the impression that his father was one of the few left, and it was only a matter of time before he had to quit or join you-know-who and the Death Eaters. The only reason his father was safe so far was due to his love of everything muggle. You-know-who despised muggles, and hadn't wanted a muggle-loving fool on his side until it was absolutely necessary.

The atmosphere around the house seemed normal to everyone else, but Ron had a hard time living in the same house as these people. The twins hardly pulled any practical jokes, and frequent explosions were not heard throughout the house. Ginny sat with their mum quite frequently, helping her with something that Ron had yet to figure out what.

Bill and Charlie were frequently stopping by, giving secret reports their mum and dad. Hardly anyone laughed, and when they did, it was short and rushed, as if they were afraid you-know-who would swoop down and kill them for laughing.

As he sat staring at the fireplace, he wondered if it was possible to kill you-know-who in this world. He seemed so powerful, and from what Ron gathered from his parents, he had spies everywhere. There were only a couple of families that you knew weren't on Voldemort's side, and they sent their children to Hogwarts every year for protection. Ron was lucky to come home this summer, as they all usually stayed at Hogwarts with the rest of the children.

From what he could gather, most of the children staying behind he already knew. Neville Longbottom stayed behind with his sister Megan (which confused Ron—why did Neville have a sister in this world? What was different?), as did Lavender Brown, Paravati and Padma Patil, Justin and Ernie from Hufflepuff, Susan Bones (whose aunt Amelia Bones apparently was killed in an attack last year), Seamus and his brother Sam, Terry Boot from Ravenclaw, and another from Hufflepuff (those were just in his year, he didn't know about Ginny's year, or the others). Apparently, the rest of the people were children of Death Eaters, and could not stay in the castle over the summer.

Ron wondered where Hermione was. He hadn't heard her name mentioned yet, and he had been listening carefully to his mum and dad talk. He also wondered if Hermione had been transferred from their world as he and Harry had been. It was making him nervous, especially since you-know-who hated muggle-borns. He hadn't heard of her staying at Hogwarts over the summer, and he wondered if she was alive in this world. Ron gulped at the thought—he didn't want to imagine.

A head appeared in the fireplace, effectively startling Ron out of his thoughts. It looked like Dumbledore, but he had many more wrinkles than the last time Ron had seen him, about a month ago at Hogwarts (the day he and Harry had shown up).

"Ah, young Ronald, would you please fetch your father for me?" Dumbledore said, with a tired smile on his face. "I have some rather urgent news for him," he said.

* * *

Hermione sat on her bed in the hospital, reading 'A History of Dark Wizards and Witches in the Last Hundred Years'. Really, though, half the chapters were on Grindewald, and half were on Voldemort. She was more interested in Voldemort, ever since she woke up in hospital earlier that summer. 

Apparently, she had been in a coma for the last year and a half, do to prolonged exposure to 'crucio'. Her parents told her that a boy named Harry Potter had cursed her until she was unconscious. In her unstable state, she had dropped off into a coma, and the doctors didn't know when she would wake up. It was a miracle that she had woken up, they told her.

Now, this all confused Hermione, because as far as she remembered, she had been in her own room at home, and she knew for a fact that Harry would never place her under that terrible curse. You had to really want to cause pain, and she knew that as mad as Harry would get sometimes, he would never hate anyone enough to cast that curse and actually do damage.

They hadn't let her have any books for the first month, and she'd gone nearly bonkers. After all, she hadn't been in a coma, so everything was just fine. After they were sure that she wasn't going to relapse, they let her read books and do homework. She'd been so bored that she'd finished all of her homework in a week, and now she was reading up on her history. Things were not fitting together. Why hadn't Harry and Ron sent her any owls? And why were her parents suddenly best friends with Professor McGonagall? They'd met her once before, and only for a brief period of time.

She looked at the chapter she started with-- 'The Rise of Voldemort—A Powerful Empire Emerges'.

Why wasn't it the rise and fall of Voldemort? After all, he'd fallen to Harry over fifteen years ago.

As she read, she grew more and more horrified. Something was very wrong with history. This book said that Voldemort had been in power for over twenty-five years. She flipped through the chapters, stopping when she reached the last chapter.

'The Rise of Dark Families, Light Families, and All Those In-Between'

Scanning the chapter, she looked for familiar names. She stopped when she came to 'Weasley'.

'The Weasley name has yet to be associated with 'dark', one of the few families left to remain away from Voldemort and his supporters. Their elder son William works as a curse-breaker for Albus Dumbledore, head of the 'Light' resistance called the Order of the Phoenix. (ref pg. 20-34, 45, 60-82, 96-98, 109-112, 120-139). Charles has worked with Dragons until 1993, when they rebelled against light magic, (ref pg. 134-135). Percival quit from the Ministry for 'personal reasons' and currently works with his father Arthur. Arthur, along with Frederick and George, works for the Ministry as Obliviators. The youngest Weasleys remain at Hogwarts in Gryffindor.'

She scanned through again, spotting other names like Malfoy (which was under dark), Longbottom (which was under light—and confused Hermione for a second, until she read about them), Patil (light), Brown (light), Zabini (dark), Parkinson (dark), and finally Potter (in-between).

Hermione frowned when she saw the name Potter, and started reading the page.

'Lily and James Potter are notorious supporters of Albus Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix. They have three children, Harry, Thomas, and Kaylee, all of whom now attend Hogwarts. Because of their devotion to the 'light', Voldemort planned an attack in 1981. He planned to defeat them, and move on to the Longbottom family (ref pg 202). However, after many failed attempts to find them, he eventually gave up. This, and the failed attack on the Longbottom family, proved to be two of the few failed attacks Voldemort has encountered in the last fifteen years.

'The reason the Potter family has been classified as 'in-between' is because of their eldest son, Harry. While the rumors have never been officially confirmed, it is said that Harry was initiated into Voldemort's ranks at age 11, making him one of the youngest Death Eaters to be initiated. However, that is only a rumor, and sufficient proof has not been brought forward to the eyes of the public.'

Hermione stopped reading. Either this book was a practical joke, or she was not in her own world.

She'd read about alternate universes, of course, but all that she'd found were brief mentions here or there. They'd never been confirmed by others than those who had supposedly been to these 'alternate universes'. After an extensive search, she'd only come up with limited information. Hermione had eventually given up on the search.

Her thoughts immediately turned to Harry and Ron. Usually, it said in the books, more than one person traveled to the same alternate worlds, and there was usually one person who was the trigger to the travel. Hermione guessed that Harry, who attracted all kinds of attention, both good and bad, was the trigger. Somehow, Voldemort had sent at least her and Harry to this world. She didn't know about Ron.

Ahhh!—she had to get out of this bed and find a library and an owl. She had to make sure that Harry was okay, especially since they thought he was a Death Eater here. He could be in serious trouble if he didn't play it smooth, and Harry wasn't exactly known for his acting abilities. Now—how was she going to get out of the hospital?

Looking over at her mother and father, she decided to wake her father. She was a daddy's girl, and he would do just about anything for his little girl. If she told him she wanted to go for a walk, he'd probably let her.

* * *

Harry had finally found the book he was looking for. It was a huge book that had everything you wanted to know (and most things you didn't) about the Ministry and the different positions that one could hold. It also told which offices were on floor one, floor two, etc. The thing he needed was in the second to last chapter. 

'Rules for Entering/Visiting the Ministry'

He read through the chapter, and he found out that the system worked the same way as it did in his world. He'd have to be careful, as 'Harry Potter' is not a person they would want entering the Ministry. Perhaps he could get in another way.

An owl hooted softly, and he turned to see an owl lingering outside with a letter. He opened his window and let the owl in, apologizing that he didn't have anything but water for the owl. He grabbed the letter from the owl's grip, and looked at the familiar and impeccably neat handwriting.

**Dear Harry,**

**I've had a wonderful summer thus far, visiting all different places. I saw the wonderful white hills of Mungos, which I would recommend to you. I know you love to visit hilly places, especially when they hills look whitewashed.**

**Earlier this summer, an incredible thing happened to me. I was visiting a familiar place, when suddenly I turned up in Mungos. I think it was a wonderful surprise that my uncle Riddle gave to me, courtesy of you. If you would be so kind, I would like to meet with you and talk about old times, and our old home.**

**Oh, and if you happen to see our red weasel, would you please pass this message along to him. I haven't seen him since the summer, and I didn't know if he survived the trip with you.**

**Sincerely,**

**Jane (book-worm)**

It was an odd letter, but he had no doubt that it was from Hermione. His Hermione. That meant she was here, in this world!

Looking through he figured out what most of the odd language meant. She was obviously at St. Mungos, the wizard hospital. The remark about the whitewashed hills gave him that clue. It looks like she had figured out that they were no longer in their world, by the fact that she was in an unfamiliar place. Hermione thought that Voldemort sent him here? Not that that was unexpected—in fact, Harry had been toying with the idea in his head for a while, but it didn't make any sense. Why would Voldemort send him and his two best friends to another world?

It looked like she didn't know if Ron had come, judging by the weasel remark. And, Harry was pretty sure that 'Jane' was Hermione's middle name. She had put this letter in code, for some reason wanting it to look like a normal letter. He supposed she didn't want someone to intercept the letter, especially if she was writing to him and he was a 'supposed' Death Eater.

He didn't know what to write back, other than to say that he was fine, but he didn't know what to put in a letter. Should he put it into a code like Hermione had? He didn't think he was that clever, but he didn't want anyone to intercept the letter on the way. It would not look good for a Death Eater to be sending mail to someone he had 'tortured'. He'd have to think about it.

* * *

Ron sighed. His father and Dumbledore had been talking for over an hour, and Ron was starting to get impatient. He knew it was none of his business, but for some reason he thought he should hear this conversation. Perhaps it was because he'd heard the name 'Potter' through the shut door more than once. Apparently, his father hadn't cast a silencing charm yet, because he could still hear muted voices. Man, he wished he had those 'ear' things the twins had invented last year. 

"...James isn't going to be happy—does this include Harry?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. It's amazing that we actually got this through without Voldemort noticing, but I suspect he has too much to deal with right now. If we were to let Harry get away without visiting this school, others would see it as a sign of weakness on our part. Everyone knows he's involved with the dark arts."

"Poor James...he'll have to admit that Harry isn't the boy he wants him to be..." his father trailed off, talking in quieter tones. Ron stopped listening for a moment. What was going to happen to Harry?

"He was over here the other day, looking happier than I'd seen him in years, Albus. He said something about wanting Ron to come shadow he and Sirius for a day. I said I'd have to think about it, but he said it would help Ron get over anything that happened this summer. You know, Ron still hasn't told me what happened, and I'm beginning to get worried..."

"Ronald Weasly, you had better not be doing what I think you're doing," a familiar voice said. He cringed and turned to face his mother, who was tapping her foot.

* * *

**Jane,**

**It's good to hear from you. I'm fine, as is our 'red weasel'. He is currently with his family of weasels. I'm afraid that the father weasel doesn't like me very much.**

**I'm disappointed that I'm missing the white hills of Mungos, but, as you hinted, I've seen far too many white hills and now consider myself to be an expert on them.**

**Would you be able to try calling me (by fire, not by phone)? I have some things I need help with, and I really need to talk to you.**

**Your friend always,**

**Harry**

Hermione smiled as she finished the short letter. Ron and Harry were both fine! A huge wave of relief washed over her. She got up from the bed she was currently resting in, and quietly made her way out of the hospital room and down the hall. There had to be a fireplace around here somewhere.

* * *

Voldemort grinned (if one could call the slight twist on his face a grin) as he heard the youngest Malfoy's report. Good--the little whelp had proved valuable. Finally.

"And how did you get this past Dumbledore?" he asked.

"The old fool thinks it was his idea to begin with, my Lord."

Voldemort nodded, intrigued. "Ah, well done Malfoy. Now young Potter will not have an excuse to avoid my presence."

Draco hoped Harry knew what he was doing--otherwise, he was going to be a best friend short in a couple of weeks.

* * *

Memory #12 

"_Draco, lay off. I'm almost done with this book--and I'm not going anywhere until I finish it. You are just prolonging your misery by interupting me," Harry said, not glancing up from the book he read. The title was Bonds: Forced, Accepted, and All Those In Between. _

"_Harry," Draco whined. "Come on, I want to go outside and fly. You can read your book later."_

_Harry finally looked up at his best friend, saw that he was practically bouncing, and sighed. He closed his book, and heard Draco give a strangled cheer. When he looked up, Draco had his broom in one hand, and Harry's in the other. _

_"Let's go down to the pitch!" Draco led the way, babbling every once in a while. Harry let a small smile come on his lips, amused that Draco could be so excited about _**flying**._ Harry didn't like to fly, because once it was over, once the feeling of being free ended, you crashed back down to earth in a wave of disappointment. Flying was an illusion of freedom, and it cut him every time.

* * *

_


	7. The Past Will Haunt You

Chapter 7: The Past Will Haunt You

AN: Edited 08/10/2006. Next is a new chapter!

* * *

Nope, no fireplace, and definitely no floo powder. This was the third place she had searched, and still nothing. She wondered where the hospital kept all of its floo powder. Maybe she could ask for some. But where? She sighed, giving up, and exited the room.

She was being silly. The hospital wasn't just going to keep a pot of floo powder lying around for mental cases to use—and they probably wouldn't give any out to patients for safety reasons. Hermione sighed. She'd probably have to owl a wizard family and ask them to send her some. Maybe Ron would be able to help her, now that she knew he had come to this universe with Harry.

Frowning at the lack of options, she trudged back to her room. On the way down, she spotted the waiting room where concerned relatives and friends would usually wait. However, the room was empty. 'Perfect,' she thought.

Walking into the room, she saw the scrawny fireplace that was supposed to warm the room. On the mantel, there was a small pot that read, 'One pinch, one knut'. Hermione frowned. She hadn't brought any money with her. Believing that wizards were like muggles in more than one way, she started searching the ground. Surely wizards dropped knuts like muggles dropped their coins.

A rotten sandwich and a half-eaten blood pop later, Hermione found a knut behind one of the uncomfortable chairs. She went over to the pot, dropped the knut in, and grabbed a pinch of powder. Before she threw it in the fire, she wondered what name to call out. As long as the Potter's didn't have any other relatives, she could say 'Potter House'. However, if they had named their house differently or there was more than one Potter house, she wouldn't get anything.

Throwing the powder in, she said hesitantly, 'Potter house'.

* * *

Kaylee was sitting on the piano bench staring at the piano. Harry had said that the piano had given him certain memories, ones that he hadn't shared with Kaylee yet. Kaylee didn't know what they were, and she couldn't figure out how the piano would give him these memories. 

"Hello? Is there anyone there?"

Kaylee looked around for the voice, and then made her way to the fire. Someone was trying to fire call.

"Yes, this is the Potter residence. Do you want to speak to dad?" she said, looking at the girl in the fire. She looked familiar, but Kaylee couldn't remember who she was. Her brown hair looked very ragged, like it hadn't been brushed for a while, and the girl's face was pale and drawn, like she hadn't gotten enough food lately.

"No, I need to speak to Harry Potter. Does he live here?" she asked, her voice filled with hope.

"Yes, just a sec—he's up in his room reading," she said, leaving the girl's head in the fire and going upstairs to get Harry.

Harry was looking through the huge book about the Ministry, trying to find a way to get to the Department of Mysteries. He knew he couldn't just walk in and ask to see the prophesy level. It wouldn't go over too well with the people at the Ministry.

"Harry? Some lady's in the fire, says she needs to talk to you," Kaylee shouted up the stairs. Harry set down the book to go see who was asking for him.

When he walked into the piano room, as he had named it, he recognized the face in the fire immediately.

"Hermione!" he said, running over to the fire. Her face was pale, her hair a mess, but he was so glad to see her alive (and NOT in a coma).

"Harry? Oh thank goodness, I was afraid I had the wrong house. Who was that girl, Harry?"

"She's my sister, Kaylee. Mione, are you still at St. Mungos?"

She smiled, obviously pleased. "Oh good, you knew what I was talking about. I tried to make it easy for you to understand, but I was afraid that you wouldn't know who sent the letter, or if you did, you would have no idea what I was talking about. Have you seen Ron?"

"Yeah, at the beginning of summer. We were both dragged to Hogwarts. Apparently, I kidnapped him at the end of the year, and his father thought I had put some kind of spell on him. I don't think Mr. Weasly's too happy with me right now. I haven't seen Ron since then."

"Oh Harry, I don't know what we're going to do. From what I gather, you're not too popular around here, especially with Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore. They've both been to see me, and neither held you in a good light." She looked at him, her face filled with an emotion Harry couldn't read. "I honestly don't know what to do, other than to try and convince Dumbledore," she said.

Harry sighed. "I don't think Dumbledore is going to be easy to convince. I talked to my parents, and I think they believe me, but I'm not sure. I know that Kay believes me, and probably Tom too. Tom's my brother," he said, seeing her questioning glance.

Hermione bit her lip, obviously thinking for another way to get home. Harry hesitated to speak—Hermione probably wouldn't approve of his idea to break into the Ministry. She looked up and saw his face, and immediately frowned.

"What? What is it?" she half asked, half demanded. "You know something, don't you?"

"Er—not really. I just...well, I can't figure out..." he paused, remembering that he had yet to tell Ron and Hermione of the prophesy. "...um, how to owl Ron without his family noticing," he finished lamely, hoping Hermione would buy the excuse. She looked skeptical, but gave him an answer.

"Well, I suggest you wait until everyone's sleeping," she said. "That way, nobody will notice except Ron."

Harry nodded, and then heard voices in the other room. He frowned, not expecting that many people to be home at the moment.

"Hey Hermione? There's someone in the other room, I've got to go," he said.

"Alright, I'll do some research on alternate universes and owl you with anything I find," she said. "Harry—be careful around Dumbledore for now," she added, her face filled with worry. "I think he suspects you to be a death eater, and you wouldn't want to be stuck in Azkaban."

"Don't worry Hermione—Dumbledore doesn't scare me," he said laughing, and then smiled at her exasperated face. "I'm sorry 'Mione, I'll be careful, I promise."

Harry walked into the other room, and nearly jumped when Ron tackled him.

"Ron, mate, er...good to see you too," he said, confused as to why Ron was acting like he hadn't seen him in years.

"Harry—you have to get out of here! I heard my dad and Dumbledore talking on the Floo and they're gonna send you away to some school! I dunno what kind of school, but it didn't sound like your dad would be too happy with Dumbledore. I think it's a school for reforming death eaters!"

Harry just looked at him, shocked.

* * *

Cannon World, AU Harry

'The Rise and Fall of Voldemort'. Hmmm, interesting. The FALL of Voldemort.

Harry picked up the book, flipping through it as he walked through the rest of the store. 'I wonder what this book is doing in a Dark Art's book shop?' he wondered to himself. 'Probably just misplaced'.

A sinister voice broke his train of thought.

"Can I help you, sir?" a man asked from behind him. Harry frowned but didn't turn, not wanting the wizard to see what he was looking at.

"No, I don't require your help, thank you," he said rather sharply, hoping the man would get the hint and leave.

"Ah, well, we have several books that I believe might interest you, sir, if you are interested in the rise of Voldemort," he said, catching the title of the book Harry was holding. Harry's eyes narrowed—he didn't appreciate strangers butting into his business.

"I won't tell you again, sir. My business is my own, thank you," he said, turning from the man. The man slinked off to another part of the store, leaving Harry to find the books he needed.

Hmm, 'Powerful Dark Curses to Test Your Enemies' sounded good. After all, Harry believed you had to fight fire with fire.

* * *

AU World, obviously

"I'm sorry James, but we've had too many close calls with him. He's a liability to the school, and all of the students there. Albus couldn't find another way out, especially since the ministry is insisting that all Death Eaters be sent to Azkaban without a trial. Harry's lucky that they're not sending him to Azkaban," Arthur said, looking at a distraught James Potter. James' mouth was open in astonishment, and he was trying to find words to express what he wanted to say.

"But Harry's not a Death Eater! Well...er, not this...um," he stopped, at a loss for words. He couldn't tell Arthur that he thought his son was actually 'Harry' from a different dimension. They'd probably send him to St. Mungos.

"James, all he has to do is make it through the training. It's not nearly as bad as prison. Albus got the Ministry to agree to open this mini-school during this summer for Death Eaters who are still in school. If he completes the training, he's free to go," the red-headed man said gently. He knew how hard this must be on a father—he couldn't imagine what he would do if he found out one of his children was a Death Eater.

James was about to try again when Harry stumbled into the room, looking just as shocked as James felt.

"When am I going?" he asked, his voice a little on edge.

Arthur tried not to strangle the boy when he entered the room. This was the monster that had held his Ron captive, and that had tortured that poor muggle-born into a coma, and had—

"WHEN am I going?" he asked again, for no one had answered him yet.

"Mr. Potter, you will be sent to a school not far from here. The purpose of this school is to give you an extra education opportunity over the summer. You will have full access to a library—"

"With all due respect, Mr. Weasly, I already heard you talking earlier. Why am I going to some school with Death Eaters? And when are you going to ship me away?"

Arthur's face hardened when Harry interrupted him, but paled when he realized Harry knew what was going on. If word got back to Voldemort, their plan would be toast. He didn't know how Albus had slipped this past Voldemort (who pretty much controlled the Ministry), but he had, and now they had 'Ministry Orders' to send all suspected Death Eater children to a special reform school, out of reach from Voldemort for at least the summer. The goal was to try and get some of them to turn back from the dark and spy for the light. However, the suspected Death Eaters were just to think that this summer was an extra 'learning' experience that would help them succeed in their future goals.

It would not do for Harry to know what was going on. The information must be kept from Voldemort at all costs. Arthur pulled out his wand to obliviate Harry, but unfortunately he had forgotten that James, though working at home, was still the head of one of the top Auror division. He was stunned before he knew what hit him.

Harry looked at his dad, impressed despite the circumstances. 'Wow,' he thought, 'I've got a long way to go'.

* * *

Cannon World

Ron woke up to find his room a hideous orange—everything was neon orange! The walls, the sheets, even the posters up on the walls of the...Cannons?...were orange. The Cannons? He didn't like the Cannons, they were horrible. What kind of trick was this?

He got up, feeling a bit nauseous after seeing so much ugly orange, and hurried out of his room to get away from the sickening color. As he passed the twins' room, he heard an explosion, and ducked. Oh bully, this was his day. First, he wakes up to orange, and now Death Eaters were attacking his house.

He was still ducking on the stairs when Ginny came up from the kitchen. She looked at him strangely.

"Ron? Are you alright? Did the twins get you again with one of their experiments? Don't tell mum, she's already in a fit because of something they did yesterday."

She paused, apparently to think, and then continued. "Actually, it might have been the past couple of days. I think they gave some Grizzley's to the gnomes, and now they growl at everything that passes. It's quite annoying, actually."

She seemed to realize that Ron wasn't responding, for she looked down at him. "Seriously, Ron, are you alright? You look a bit...tired."

"I'm fine, just looking for my, er, quill that I dropped," he said, standing up and brushing himself off like nothing had happened.

"Hmm, ok," she said, looking at him strangely. "Oh, by the way, have you heard from Harry lately? It's been at least two weeks, and I heard mum saying the Order hasn't heard anything yet."

"Harry who?" he asked, wondering who Ginny was talking about.

"Um, Harry Potter, you know, boy-who-lived, your best friend for the last five years? Honestly Ron, just go see Mum, she'll fix whatever the twins did to you," she said, making her way up the stairs.

'Harry Potter? The Death Eater?'

* * *

_Professor Dumbledore,_

_I'm writing to you because I don't know what else to do. My daughter, Hermione Granger, has slipped into a coma, and we can't figure out why. She was perfectly fine, and now she is unresponsive. We had our doctors look at her, but they can find nothing as to the cause of her being in a coma. Because it appeared almost like magic, we figured it must be magic. We need your help. Please._

_Sincerely,_

_Dr. Anne Granger_


	8. Swimming

Chapter 8: How well do you swim with sharks circling?

AN: New chapter. Hope this lives up to expectations.

After James had explained the school to him, it didn't seem like such a bad deal. All he had to do was convince the Ministry's lackeys that he wasn't a Dark Wizard—which wouldn't be hard seeing as how he wasn't. He was worried, however, about spending time surrounded by supposed Death Eaters—if he was who everyone said he was, then he was one of the Dark Lord's servants (who hadn't shown up for meetings all summer). Harry knew this could be seen as defecting from the ranks of Death Eaters, and he wasn't anxious to have loyal Death Eaters try to get revenge on him because he had 'betrayed' the Dark Lord.

The other thing that bothered him was that he knew few people he could trust to get him out of sticky situations. Dumbledore didn't hold him in high regards, and Harry was sure that if his parents hadn't been good friends of Dumbledore's, he would have been shipped off to Azkaban by now.

Or did Azkaban even exist in this world? Maybe Voldie had taken control years ago. He sighed, thinking of who else in this world he trusted.

He'd tried to contact Hermione, but so far he hadn't heard a response. He had sent out at least four letters the past week—and he knew Hermione was getting them because the owl would return empty handed—er, empty-clawed. He had yet to talk to Ron as well, for Mr. Weasley hadn't taken to well to being stunned in the fire. It had a nasty reaction—his body had tried to get up and walk around while he was stunned, and this gave the rest of the family the impression that he was a zombie of some sort. It had taken over five hours to sort out the problem (the Aurors were puzzled, and no medi-witches were available at the time), and needless to say, Harry or James weren't about to fire call the Weasley's anytime soon.

At the moment, Harry was sitting on the piano bench, weary of actually touching the instrument. He was so frustrated of no knowing what was going on. Did the prophesy exist in this world? Why had his parents lived? Why were this world and his world so different—what set them off in different directions? Also, he would randomly receive 'visions' or memories of the other Harry's life from the piano, and they weren't fitting together. He still had no idea why he was here, or how he'd even gotten here (with the exception that he knew ole Voldie had something to do about it)—and another troubling fact was that Hermione and Ron had come with him.

If he, Ron and Hermione were here, did that mean that their counterparts were in his world? What if there was a dark Harry with the Dark Mark running around in his world? Or Hermione, who suddenly went into a coma? Or even Ron, who would probably raise suspicion with his family when they realized he wasn't the same Ron—Harry tried not to think about his world because he was scared to see what he would go back to.

That is, if he ever got back.

* * *

Hermione sighed, and tried to explain to her mother _again_ that she was fine and that walking around the hospital wouldn't kill her. Though she couldn't blame her mum for being over protective (Hermione_ had_ just come out of a coma), it was starting to annoy her. Her mum wasn't allowing any contact with the outside world after she'd caught Harry's owl inside the hospital room, claiming it was highly unsanitary and could make Hermione ill because her immune system was weak.

So she spent the time reading up on the world they were now living in. There was no sense in just wasting time, after all. After reading several confusing books, she had drawn some conclusions about this 'alternate world' and didn't like what she had found out.

Few of the history books she'd found/borrowed told her anything useful. They were either Ministry sponsored books, so they told of the glory of the Death Eaters, or they were horribly written and she couldn't tell if they were fiction or non-fiction. She assumed that the Ministry was now, for the most part, under the control of the Death Eaters and Voldemort. She also assumed that this meant that Dumbledore had lost most of his power in the Ministry. This did NOT bode well for anybody on the light side, but especially not Harry.

Harry was in big trouble. The light side thought him dark, and the dark side thought him dark. The only problem was that _her _Harry wasn't dark, and didn't have the dark mark. As soon as Voldemort saw Harry, he'd know something was wrong. Harry, bless his soul, couldn't lie very well, and as far as she knew, he didn't have Occulmency mastered yet. This was not good.

He'd been sending her letters, but because of her mother's worrying, she had no way of sending them back. Ironically, while she was thinking that she passed by a window to see an owl waiting by it. She quickly opened the window to allow the owl access, and grabbed the letter. After reading it, she felt sick.

Harry was going to a summer program for 'reforming' Death Eaters. Run by the Ministry, who was run by Voldemort. However, the letter implied that the school was Dumbledore's idea. She frowned, wondering who was fooling whom, and rushed to her room. She was sick of her mother's caution, and she was _going _to write Harry back. Then, she was going to demand to be let go.

After all, her friend needed her help.

* * *

Cannon World

Albus Dumbledore was one of the greatest wizards in the world. He'd defeated a dark lord back in his day, and was still the only wizard Voldemort feared. He knew a great deal about a great deal, and this is why he was so frustrated. He'd just finished reading a letter from Molly Weasley, saying that something was wrong with Ron, something more than just teenage moodiness.

Hermione Granger was in a coma. Ronald Weasley was acting strange.

Dumbledore was worried. Not only for the two individuals in question, but for what it meant for a third individual.

Harry Potter.

Arabella had been reporting that everything looked normal, but he would feel much better if he saw for himself that Harry was fine. The boy had been through enough, and if his best friends had been attacked magically (which was the only conclusion Albus could come up with at the time), the logical conclusion was that either this was done to hurt Harry, or that Harry was next.

Neither boded well.

* * *

AU World

Albus Dumbledore was one of the greatest wizards in the world. He defeated a dark lord back in his day, and was still the only wizard Voldemort feared. There were very few wizards or witches that Albus feared.

One of them was almost sixteen years old.

Harry Potter was a mystery to Albus. His family was everything that one wished for in a family. He hadn't grown up neglected or abused. He had childhood friends to play with. Somehow, the boy had still turned dark.

That was not what scared Albus about the boy.

The thing that scared Albus was how many people were willing to follow the boy.

The Slytherins looked up to him and his best friend, Draco Malfoy, even the older ones. Ravenclaws were seen working with him on projects and homework. Even Gryffindors tried desperately to pull him back to the light side.

Now, his family was supporting the boy. One of the most powerful families that supported the light side was caught in the boy's trap.

Nothing about the boy hinted that he was malicious, though, and that was what stopped Albus from sending him to Azkaban. Something just didn't add up about the boy, and Albus didn't like that. Knowing his enemies motives had kept him alive for many years.

Maybe it was time to pay the boy a visit.

* * *

Harry frantically searched through a history book. A couple of the books he'd found sounded like a Death Eater had written it, because it praised Voldemort and scorned all light wizards. He didn't know why his family would have these books, but that didn't stop him from searching through them, trying to find anything that would tell him whether or not the prophesy existed in this world. He didn't know why he had this burning urge to know about the prophesy. Something was driving him to know.

The book he was currently searching was called A Brief History of Magic, and if it was brief than he was Tom Riddle. The thing was at least a thousand pages long, and touched on some (actually many) boring things. He was looking for anything that mentioned divination when something else caught his eye.

'_People understand very little of the hierarchy of magic. Despite what people generally believe, the amount of power one has is only a small part of what makes a wizard or witch more powerful or less powerful than another. Magic takes into account the **ability** to be powerful, and the will of the person wielding it. Magic does not have a numerical value. It baffles those who try to study it, for it is not something easily put into words or numbers. The witch or wizard must remember one very important thing about magic—it isn't everything, and yet at the same time, it is._

_Equality is something not understood by many wielders of magic. The common assumption is that to be equal, things need to be the same numerically. This, as with most other things, is not the case with magic. It is usually the opposite. An equal is something that balances another out; not **cancels**, but balances.'_

Harry's eye had caught the 'equal' part of the passage. The rest of the page went on in further detail exactly what made magic equal, a very hard thing to find. The prophesy flittered through his mind, resting on the words 'mark' and 'equal'. He knew this passage had to mean something, but couldn't draw any immediate conclusions.

Merlin, he needed Ron and Hermione's help.

* * *

Cannon World

"I'm fine, leave me alone!" Ron half screamed, half growled. He was sick of his parents and siblings bothering him. _**He** _wasn't the crazy one. **_They _**were.

"Honestly Ronald, you are obviously not fine. You can't remember key events in your life, you act like the world is out to get you—and you didn't even know Harry was your best friend!"

Ron was about to scream back at his mother when Ginny ran down the stairs in tears.

"Hermione is in a coma! They don't know what happened—she was perfectly fine the night before, and---" Ginny took a deep breath, and wiped away her tears, trying to calm herself. Ron looked at her suspiciously.

"Hermione? Er, muggle-born student, Gryffindor, big bushy hair? She's been in a coma for two years now. Stupid bastard tortured her for hours."

Ron was met with "Ronald! Watch your language!" and "What stupid bastard? What are you talking about?"

He chose to ignore the first, and answer the second. "Why, Potter of course. I **told** you that he wasn't my best friend. Tried to torture me this summer, but I got away, of course. Right cold bastard, that one is."

He was met by a hard smack that he was sure would leave a handprint for days.

"Ronald Weasley, I don't care if you are my brother. You say one more thing like that about Harry and I'll—"

"Oh, it's Harry now, is it? After all he's done? Why are you even defending him, Gin?"

Their argument was abruptly cut off by the arrival of Arthur Weasley. He failed to notice (or ignored) the tense atmosphere, and made an announcement.

"We're going to Diagon Alley tomorrow to get school things. I've decided to take the day off. How was everyone's day? Mine was great."

* * *

Still cannon world

The next day, Ron was scared. He could tell something was not right. His family was happily roaming Diagon Alley, as if there were no chance that You-Know-Who would turn up. And it wasn't just his family! Other people had their tiny children outside! It was madness!

He started taking in the scene, noticing more and more things that didn't add up. His family would still mention Harry bloody Potter when they thought he couldn't hear them, and a few people would say hi to him that Ron would swear he'd never seen before.

His thoughts were interrupted with Ginny's squeal. "Harry!"

His eyes shot to emerald green eyes, and he knew that his family had been wrong. He knew Harry Potter was evil, and the hatred in his eyes confirmed it.

* * *

AU World

Harry was screwed. He was dead. Drowned. Beaten with a stick. Eaten by sharks, or one of Hagrid's many pets.

Whatever words you used, it didn't look good.

He had come to this realization about an hour ago. An hour ago, he had arrived at Earlem College, the new 'school' to reform Death Eaters. An hour ago, he'd greeted his 'best friend', Draco Malfoy.

An hour ago, his scar had burned.

Now, it was a throbbing pain, but it was very easy to ignore because he was worried about much bigger things. Like how to lie to fifty Slytherins, masters of the art, and survive. He'd told his family he'd be fine, that he could handle being a cold bastard for a couple of weeks. They believed him, so he couldn't be that bad of a liar.

Currently, Malfoy (Draco, his mind corrected), was dragging him down the hallways. They had been assigned rooms, given schedules, and listened to a long speech about how this was a great opportunity, just a different one than expected.

The story the Ministry told the 'students' was that this was a place to get extra training, provided for only the elite few. That was the story to get them here. The story they were told later was, well, a different story. Good behavior and positive 'light' attitudes was their ticket out of here. Most Slytherins didn't seem that outraged, which the Ministry lackey took as a sign that they were willing to change. Harry was disinclined to agree. Dumbledore had appeared hours ago, and, Harry assumed, had looked over the wards, so he assumed that everything was safe for now.

"Harry, where have you been!" Malfoy whispered furiously. "Our lord is very disappointed in you. I fed him the stories you told me, but they only satisfied him for a little while. You had better have something better than what you told me."

'Treat him like Ron,' Harry's brain was telling him. 'Only a much more observant Ron.'

"Listen Draco, I've had problems with my family. They were keeping tabs on me this summer, much closer than they have in the past. I even noticed a couple of tracking charms they placed on me, and I couldn't risk missing one and leading them straight to our meetings," Harry said, using the lie that he and James had created.

Draco eyed him critically. "Okay, that will work, I supposed." Harry frowned at the odd choice of words, but Draco moved on.

"Anyways, did you find out what He wanted to know? You'll have to have something for him, after being away for so long. Were you able to find anything pertaining to it in your family's library?"

Harry was screwed. Incredibly screwed. His scar burned in agreement.

* * *

Sitting in his cluttered office, Albus Dumbledore sighed. He'd done the best he could for James Potter, and now he had to focus on other, very important tasks. Albus had appeared to look over the wards, while silently casting some of his own. Little, insignificant spells tended to be ignored in favor of some of the larger ones. One of these spells was keyed to the arrival of one special person: Tom Riddle.

One had to know the person's full, real name to cast the spell, because it was person specific, and not magic specific. The genius of the spell was that when Tom arrived, his presence would cancel the spell, alerting no one save Albus. Tom would never know about it, and yet Albus would know if he arrived. The spell took a lot to cast and maintain, and unfortunately couldn't be spread over more than one contained area.

Albus knew the Ministry was no longer as 'light' as they pretended to be, and he had a horrible feeling that despite his best efforts, this outreach program was just another way for all the Death Eaters to meet. He'd tried his best to get Order members in charge of the 'training', but he didn't know how many of them had been approved.

One could only hope for the best in cases such as these. For not the first time in his life, Albus wished that he were not so deeply involved in the war. His musings were interrupted by the arrival of Severus Snape, one of Albus's deepest laid spies. The look on Severus's face didn't bode well, and it was all Albus could do not to sigh.

"What can I do for you, Severus?" he asked, indicating with a wave of his hand that Severus should take a seat. His spy just ignored the chair, as usual, and proceeded to get straight to the point.

"Albus, you know that this 'reform school' is the Dark Lord's idea, don't you?" he asked, almost rhetorically. "He's using this as an opportunity to train his junior Death Eaters into competent servants. You just gave him the opportunity to brainwash all of my Slytherins!"

Albus looked seriously at the pale-skinned man before replying.

"I could not have stopped it from happening, Severus, and I was able to get in a few Order members who might be of some use. Do not lose faith so easily, Severus, all though I will admit it is a long shot."

Severus looked at him skeptically, but nodded and swept from the room. Albus watched him go, knowing that Severus was right and there wasn't anything he could do about it. His thoughts turned to a certain black haired, green eyed boy as his gaze found a simple glass ball sitting innocently on his shelf.

* * *

The first week had been okay, considering what Harry had been expecting. He'd managed to fool all of his 'friends' with his story, most of them giving him sympathetic looks for, Harry assumed, having to spend that much time with his 'horrible' family.

The lessons, loathe as he was to admit it, were relatively interesting, and even somewhat useful. Yes, they were leaning more towards the dark side of things, but mostly the lessons seemed relatively normal. It didn't hurt that Harry's magic seemed to have grown.

He'd noticed it the second time he'd tried a nonverbal spell, Wingardium Leviosa. The first time he hadn't aimed at anything, so nothing had happened. When he'd tried the second time, the feather had shot up right away. Harry had been shocked, and slightly bewildered. He'd heard that nonverbal spells were hard, certainly harder than that had been. He'd tried the same thing with other basic spells, all to have them work marvelously.

He didn't have much time to focus on this right now, because he'd finally found out what Voldemort had asked him to research. The prophesy. He'd dragged it out of Draco without making Draco too suspicious. Was this THE prophesy? Or was it a different one?

He'd also found out from eavesdropping that Azkaban was no longer much of a threat. The Ministry sent all dark wizards there, but failed to mention that once they arrived it was only a matter of time before Voldemort would get them out. Apparently the Ministry was walking a thin line between trying to appease light wizards and dark wizards alike. Harry assumed the Voldemort didn't want people to know that he had control of the Ministry, so he threw them a couple of bones while his followers climbed higher and higher in the Ministry.

Harry, while always wary, wasn't having a hard time talking to the other students. They all respected him, and so didn't ask a lot of questions, and many seemed to follow his and Malfoy's example. Harry knew that part of that was because he was so magically strong (which he still had yet to figure out). He'd thought about owling Hermione, but until he could do so safely, he wasn't going to put her in any more danger. He was careful not to perform spells in class that seemed 'light' with any eagerness, because some students looked on suspiciously when he did.

His thoughts drifting back to the prophesy, he tried to gather what information he knew about Halloween of 81. He knew Voldemort had come looking for his family, and the Longbottoms as well, but they had both gone into hiding. Harry assumed that Voldemort had some reason to come after his family, so he must have known part of the prophesy. Now, how could Harry change it slightly without telling Voldemort too much?

His scar burned, and he gulped. He was running out of time.

* * *

Draco Malfoy frowned as he tried the Patronus Charm for what seemed like the millionth time. Honestly, if the Dark Lord controlled the horrid beasts known as Dementors, why on earth should they be learning this charm? The woman in charge of the lesson frowned as see saw the class's progress. Draco could have sworn the woman was familiar somehow, but he brushed it off.

"Think of your happiest memory! Just because the Dark Lord controls the Dementors does not make them friendly beasts to be around," she said, giving Draco the impression that she was a Death Eater. He refrained from sighing, because Malfoys do not sigh, and went back to work. He glanced over at his best friend, who was currently mumbling something and getting no results as well.

Feeling slightly cheered that his best friend couldn't accomplish the spell either, he watched as the 'professor' came over to them.

"Let's see it Mr. Malfoy," she said, a bit harshly. Draco produced hardly more than a wisp of smoke, but it was more than anyone else had done. He looked up proudly only to catch what he thought was the end of an eye-roll from the woman.

"Hmm…yes, well, needs improvement doesn't it?" she said, moving onto his best friend.

"And you Mr. Potter?"

Harry mumbled something under his breath and gave his wand a wave. Nothing came out, not even smoke. Draco shot his best friend a sympathetic look, knowing how he hated not to be able to do a spell.

"You need to annunciate, Mr. Potter. Try again," she said, and Draco saw Harry give her a glare before straightening his shoulders.

"Expecto Patronum!" he said, flicking his wand to emit a silver stag.

To say Draco was shocked was an understatement, and though he tried to hide his shock others were not so careful. The professor looked suspiciously at Harry as the rest of the students gaped.

"A corporeal Patronus? On your second try?" she asked.

Harry snapped at her. "What shocks you more professor? That I did it on my second try or that I have a happy memory to fuel it?"

She frowned at him. "Most grown adults have trouble with that spell, Mr. Potter. I myself struggled with it for months before I picked it up, and I was twenty at the time."

Harry shrugged, and replied, "I do happen to pick up a book every once in a while."

Draco smirked at the implied statement, 'unlike you', missing at the end of the sentence.

And so things continued as normal, everyone chalking Harry's success up to the fact that he was Harry. Draco Malfoy, however, knew differently. He and Harry had tried that spell with little success before. He wondered what had changed.


End file.
